Swarm (14 page)

Media trucks and catering vans sat parked along the high gray crenellated wall, all the pomp and expense of the ruined wedding on display.

“How sad were all those poor K-Mo fans?” said Ren, shaking out her hair.

“We should crash a wedding every Sunday.” Davey slung his arm along the back of the seat, and Ren tipped her head back on it.

“Nah, just B-listers',” she said. “I love the way they feed off each other's faces.”

“I know, right? I could feel that wannabe vibe even before you hit me with it.”

“And today has
nothing
on the honeymoon.” Ren leaned over and kissed Davey's cheek, lighting a little spark between them. “Love in the desert on Christmas Eve!”

The car sped up as they took the access road onto the freeway. The air filled with shuffling strands of other drivers' attention, watching traffic and counting down exit signs.

A few police cars shot past on their way to the castle, setting the two laughing again.

“Late again, losers!” Ren cried.

Thibault scooted to the middle of the backseat and stuck his head up between the two.

“You guys seem pretty pleased with yourselves,” he said.

Davey flinched, his hands tightening on the wheel. But Ren just looked at Thibault levelly.

“Great. Another stalker. Or are you the same one from last night?”

Thibault didn't know what to say to that, which made her sneer.

“What? Did you think you were the only one in the world?”

“Stalker.” He shook his head.

“Do you prefer ‘Forgettable'?” Davey adjusted the rearview mirror. “Or maybe you think you're some kind of homegrown ninja?”

Ren snorted. She and Davey both kept their eyes trained on him—Davey in the mirror, Ren with an unabashed stare. They knew how to stay focused on him.

Because they'd seen an Anonymous before.

There were more of him in the world.

He shook the dizzying thought away and kept his voice firm. “What the hell were you doing back there?”

Ren hooked her elbow over the seat back and grinned. “Getting married. What did it
look
like?”

“It looked like you trying to get someone killed.”

She snorted. “We were doing those reality-celeb morons a favor. The whole world'll be talking about this!”

“Yeah, but you trashed someone's
wedding
,” Thibault said. “I heard your vows. They
meant
something to you.”

“Our vows are none of your business,” Davey growled, and shook his head. “Stalkers. Always snooping.”

“And always so judgy.” Ren turned away, now watching Thibault in the rearview mirror. “You followed us last night, too, didn't you? You were there when that black chick bricked our car. You must be one of those losers who runs the Petty Dish, huh?”

“Petri Dish,” Thibault said.

“That's right. Still can't believe you only sold beer.” Ren's eyes were coldly amused. “I mean, you guys blew up a
police station
. We figured you at least knew how to party.”

“You knew about us?” Thibault barely got the words out. It was too much at once.

“You weren't exactly in stealth mode,” she said with a laugh. “You've got your own pet weird-hunter and everything. So we decided to pay you a visit.”

“What, just to mess with us? To bring down our club?”

“Look, we didn't know you
ran
the place. Our kind aren't usually old enough to own a nightclub. Or stupid enough.”

“
I
knew, from the music vibe,” Davey grumbled. “I told you that DJ was bad news.”

“Our kind.”
Thibault swallowed. “How many of us
are
there?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? Had four of us in Portland. Including a guy just like you, a Stalker. Maybe more than one.”

“Yeah.” Davey laughed. “It's not like you can line Stalkers up and count them.”

Thibault eased himself back against the seat, his mind blown by the guy's matter-of-fact tone. There really were more people like him. People who shared the constant fight to be seen, to be remembered.

He wasn't alone.

Glitch was watching him carefully, almost pityingly. “You don't know much, do you?”

Thibault shook his head.

“Well, don't worry about us. We're not sticking around to piss in your cornflakes. We've got a honeymoon party to get to.” She put her hand on Davey's shoulder. Her wedding ring was a heavy blend of jewels and silver leaves. Bought with fake money, of course. “Don't we, Husband?”

Silently Davey laid his hand on hers, his eyes still on the road.

“That Stalker guy you knew,” Thibault said. “Is there any way to find him? If I went up to Portland, say. What's his name?”

“Like we'd remember a Stalker's name!” Davey narrowed his eyes at Thibault in the mirror. “Also, he got killed.”

Thibault stared back. “You guys are just dicking with me.”

“Poor baby.” Glitch reached back and patted Thibault's knee. Then she fixed him with her eyes, her black hair thrashing around her face in the wind. “I've got some advice for you. It might save your life, so listen: That stuff we pulled at your club? All the other big stuff you've done? It attracts attention. The wrong kind.”

“You mean, like, the government?” Thibault said.

She laughed. “The least of your worries. Here's what you and your friends gotta do—spread out wide and keep moving. Don't hang around together. Leave town.”

“Leave
town
?” He glanced around. They were practically out the other side of Cambria already, headed east.

“Don't stop anywhere for long. Be a moving target.”

Davey's reflection refused to meet his eye. Ren's gaze had him pinned back against the seat. Their connections made a perfect triangle, all three sides equally bright and firm.

“A target for
what
?” Thibault asked.

Ren got a faraway look in her eyes. Her plum-painted lips closed tight, like she was afraid of what might come out. Then she spoke. “For the guy who killed our Stalker friend. He's after us, and we just waved a big red flag telling him where we are—where
you
are. He's not picky. He'll chew up anyone who's got a power.” And her eyes pinned him again.

“And you waved that flag here?
Why?
”

“It was kind of your wedding present to us,” she said. “You guys are a diversion so we can relax on our honeymoon. Thanks for that!”

Thibault stared back at her. “If we're a diversion, why would you warn us?”

Davey gave a braying laugh. “The longer it takes him to hunt you guys down, the farther we can run. So
try
not to die too fast. How many are you?” He lifted his chin to peer at Thibault in the mirror.

“Six.”

“Beautiful.” Davey hit the brakes, pulling onto the shoulder. The wheels sent up a cloud of dust around them. “Six of you should distract him for a good long while. Go tell your pals to spread out.”

“What? You're just dumping me here?”

“We didn't
ask
you to come along,” Ren said.

Thibault looked around—this was miles out of town. And Flicker was still in the middle of that disaster. He had to get back to her somehow, especially if there was some kind of Zeroes killer around.

But he also had to know. “What does he look like?”

“He looks like a thousand zombies.” Ren kept her expression absolutely bland. “Every one of them hungry to rip you to pieces.”

Thibault matched her expression. “Really.”

“Yeah, really.”

Davey thumped the steering wheel. “Got a long drive ahead of us, dude. And it's already a long walk back. You Stalkers kind of suck at hitchhiking.”

Thibault sat up on the back of the seat and swung his legs over the side. “Thanks for the, uh, advice.”

He stepped off onto the empty road.

Davey looked straight ahead, his attention a clear beam at Ren. Her eyes were boring into Thibault like lasers.

“No problem,” she said in a flat voice. “Take care, dude. And keep your eye on that DJ.”

She rapped Davey on the shoulder and he threw the Ford into gear. They took off with a squeal of tires, kicking up a cloud of dust, like they didn't trust Thibault to disappear all by himself.

“THEY MUST HAVE KNOWN ABOUT
us since last summer,” Thibault said. “When we blew up the police station. They saw Sonia's posts and came looking for us.”

Nate watched the others' attention sharpen. It was tricky for Thibault, taking the floor like this. Usually at meetings with all six of them, he only interjected from the corner. But there he was, up on the riser in the front of the home theater, trying to hold their attention.

The fact that Nate's little sisters had decorated the theater for the annual family viewing of
Frosty the Snowman
probably wasn't helping. But for the moment Thibault had the Zeroes riveted.

“They've known lots of people with powers,” he said. “Some in their hometown, and probably others along the way. Even someone like me.”

“Whoa,” Ethan said. “Another Anonymous?”

“Yes. But Ren called him a Stalker.”

“You gotta admit that's a cooler name,” Ethan said.

Flicker stared at him. “Thibault's not a stalker!”

“I didn't mean as in ‘crazy ex-boyfriend.' ” Ethan sank into his chair. “More like Death-Stalker, the supervillain.”

“Go on,” Nate said, drawing the room back together. Ethan was trying to be part of the team, but his talent for scattering the group's energy was undiminished.

Thibault's voice went soft. “Ren said he's dead now. Someone killed him.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, the lines of attention that held them all together sharpening in the air.

“Maybe they did it themselves,” Chizara said. “They have that whole Bonnie and Clyde thing.”

“It wasn't them,” Thibault said firmly. “The killer is after them too. That's why they left town. They keep moving all the time—they're on the run.”

Chizara leaned forward, her attention steady on Thibault. “So they pissed somebody off
besides
us? Big surprise. They're assholes.”

Thibault shook his head. “They didn't blow up the Dish just to be annoying. They planned every bit of it, so that this killer knows about us, too. We're a diversion.”

“Holy crap,” Ethan said. “You mean there's, like, a Zeroes killer out there? And we're decoys?”

Fear surged through in the room. Nate felt it echo from Kelsie into a feedback loop. But Chizara was already on it, reaching out to take Kelsie's wrist.

The fear dropped back a little.

“Is this guy like us?” Nate asked. “Does he have a power?”

Thibault shook his head. “Not sure. But Ren said to stay away from each other, that we'd be easier to find in a group. So maybe this guy can sense people with powers. I guess that's a power in itself.”

Nervous attention arced through the room again, but Nate kept his voice firm. “We need to know more about him. We have to find Glitch and Coin.”

“They were headed east,” Thibault said. “They're planning something special for their honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” Flicker snorted. “You know, I don't think a marriage is official when you hijack someone else's wedding.”

A flutter of laughter went through the room, and Nate scribbled her a quick note:
Good move. Keep them laughing.

Thibault wasn't smiling. “You saw them up there, Flick. They were taking it pretty seriously.”

“Why get married if a killer's chasing you across the country?” Ethan asked.

“Because they're lying about the whole thing,” Chizara said. “They're just trolling us.”

“Or because they don't expect to make it,” Thibault said. “
Maybe you were right about them being Bonnie and Clyde.”

Nate spoke up before that thought took hold. “If they took the wedding seriously, then they'll take the honeymoon seriously too. Something with a big crowd.”

Thibault nodded. “Ren said it would be in the desert, Christmas Eve.”

Nate stood up. “The day after tomorrow. Not long to figure this out. But maybe we can get Sonia to help us.”

That got another laugh, and for a moment the room seemed steady. Until Ethan opened his mouth.

“Great. A Zeroes killer.
Just
what I wanted for Christmas.”

“It'll be okay,” Nate said, stepping onto the riser. “We'll track those two down, find out more, and deal with this. Thank you for that, Anonymous.”

A moment later Nate was alone on the stage, with Thibault a wavering presence in the back row of the theater. As he slipped from their minds, the fear caused by his bad news subsided a little.