Swarm (27 page)

Kelsie couldn't breathe. She could remember it all too—every moment of Swarm's dark greed. She hadn't stopped feeling it, ever since the mob had turned on Davey in the mall.

Her anxiety leaked across the house, stilling the laughter from Ikem and Obinna in the kitchen, probably ruining an expensive, precious phone call back to Nigeria. And every minute she didn't rally and bring the happy back, she was only proving Chizara's mother right. Powers were bad. Swarm was bad. And she was another Swarm waiting to happen.

She looked up to find Chizara staring at her.

“The Dish makes people happy,” Kelsie said quietly. “And it's my home.”

“I know.” Chizara took her hand. “In some ways it's mine, too.”

That was it, really. The Dish wasn't just a place to entertain crowds, or sleep, or dance. For the first time in Kelsie's life, she had a place that wouldn't suddenly disappear because of a missed rent payment, or one too many noise complaints, or a landlord angry about shady visitors.

Of course, with the Dish on the radar of dirty cops, and Swarm out there looking for other Zeroes to kill, it was just as fragile as anyplace she'd ever lived with Dad.

“It's the first place I've ever been without pain,” Chizara said. “But look where we're all going. Nate says the Dish is training, but training for what? You've
seen
what powers can do.”

“We're
training
to stand up to whoever messes up our lives!” Kelsie squeezed Chizara's hand, hard. “That's worth it, right?”

Certainty surged through the house, and a whoop came from Obinna in the kitchen. But Chizara didn't look convinced.

Kelsie almost smiled. Chizara's skepticism was familiar, and welcome. Every time Nate made some big speech, you could rely on her to point out whatever was sketchy about the plan.

Chizara shrugged. “Maybe it is.”

Kelsie softened. “I've never had anyone I could talk to before, not about my power. I never even
believed
in it till now,
and I'm still trying to figure it out. You're so lucky that you can talk to your family.”

Chizara laughed. “We don't really
talk
about it. It's more like going to confession. Mom has this truth serum she can deliver through her eyes.”

Kelsie got that. There was something sharp and knowing in Niyi's gaze that she didn't want to get on the wrong side of.

“Maybe that's a good thing to have in your life,” Kelsie said. “A daily dose of truth serum. No one's ever tried to keep me honest.”

“That doesn't sound that hard, Kels. You're a good person.”

“Are you applying for the job?” Kelsie asked boldly.

Chizara looked surprised. “Sure. I mean . . . Yeah. I am.”

“Good.” Kelsie leaned in toward Chizara. In turn Chizara wrapped an arm awkwardly around Kelsie's shoulders.

In that instant the two of them made their own space, separate from the rest of the family. There was no Curve, but Kelsie felt something enfold them, protective and strong.

She relaxed into the embrace. She rested her face against Zara's cheek and breathed her in carefully, afraid to disrupt the moment.

Then somebody's pocket started buzzing.

“Seriously?” Kelsie muttered. “Your phone or mine?”

They listened for the next ring.

“Both.” Chizara sighed. “Which means Glorious Leader.”

They disentangled from each other reluctantly. Then there
was a moment of self-conscious quiet as they stared at their screens.

Sonia just posted. Huge dump of photos of the Dish.

“What the hell?” Chizara said. “But I bricked her phone!”

The next three texts came fast:

Looks like they were taken by Davey and Ren.

They show all of our faces.

Guess she's got her revenge.

“Whoa,” Chizara said. “And I just spent two days feeling sorry for her.”

Kelsie couldn't answer. Her fear was spreading out across the house, only a little softened by the happy family.

Chizara felt it, looked up at her. “Are you okay?”

Kelsie tried to swallow. “He'll be coming to Cambria now. Not just to get random Zeroes. He'll know
I'm
here.”

She tried to reel it back, the way she felt. Anything to protect this house, this family. They were so good, and she had the power to turn good people into something bad.

They didn't deserve this.

“You can't stay at the Dish,” Chizara said. “I'll help you pack.”

CHIZARA STOOD IN THE DOORWAY
of Kelsie's room above the Dish, resisting the urge to head back downstairs. The second floor had no Faraday cage, and Kelsie's phone and wireless speakers were needling her bones. A smoke detector in the hallway nagged at her like a whining mosquito.

But this had to feel worse for Kelsie. She was losing her home.

Chizara tried to lighten the mood. “What to wear, when running for your life?”

Kelsie gave a halfhearted snort. She sat on her bed, a black duffel bag unzipped at her feet. She stared dully at her clothes spread out on the floor, along with all sorts of odd treasures from her past—snow globes, plastic figurines, a
mini sticker book. How many had her dad given her?

“I can't leave tonight.” Kelsie fell backward onto the
Disney on Ice
bedspread. “I'm too jumpy. If I show up like this, Ling will know something's wrong.”

“I'm pretty nervous too.” Chizara crossed to the window, looked down into the empty alleyway. The city signals massed against her forehead through the cold, rain-spattered glass, a blurry headache. “At least Swarm doesn't know where I
live
. You can come stay with us, you know.”

“I can't. We have to stay separate.” Kelsie stood up and came to the window, staring down into the lengthening shadows of the alleyway. “How long before he gets here?”

“Hard to say.” Chizara tried to sound cool and offhand, like Nate before he'd lost it. “I mean, how famous is Sonia Sonic, really?”

“Famous enough,” Kelsie said, and threw herself back down on the bed. “He found Davey and Ren.”

“It took us seven hours to drive to that mall,” Chizara said. “And he's probably still chasing Glitch.”

“He doesn't care about her anymore.” A shiver went through Kelsie. “He wants
me
; I felt it. Because Ren was right—I'm like him.”

The winter evening darkened another notch. Chizara turned from the window and propped her butt on the sill, taking the haze of electronic pain in her back.

“No, you're not,” she said. “You know that.”

“All I know is that I love this place.” Kelsie looked like a kid lying there, one grubby sneaker crossed over the other. “If I could stay just one more night . . .”

“So stay,” Chizara said. “I'll stay with you.”

Kelsie lifted her head, her green eyes filling with hope—for a moment. “But what about everyone splitting up?”

Chizara shrugged. “I can't go back tonight. My mom will ask why you had to leave all of a sudden. One death stare and I'd spill the beans.”

“Will your mom and dad be okay with that?” Kelsie said. “It
is
Christmas night.”

“Mom knows you're upset. I'll tell her I'm staying at your place.” Chizara managed a smile. “I may not have mentioned you live above a nightclub.”

“Really?” Kelsie hitched up onto her elbows. “That'd be great. I have snacks.”

Chizara laughed. “You're still hungry after that lunch? My mom would be scandalized. But what about . . . your housemate?”

“Anon!” Kelsie said. “Yeah, he left yesterday, right after we got back. He's at Flicker's, I think.”

They frowned at each other.

“Let's check,” Chizara said.

They went down the hall together, to a door with a handwritten sign.

Anon Exists Here

AKA Thibault (“Teebo”)

It is polite to knock.

Kelsie banged on the door. “Thibault? You there?”

Silence, except for a last few drops of rain draining from the gutters, and the faint nagging of electronics behind the door. It was kind of creepy, having the whole building empty around them. How could Kelsie stand it, living in such a huge place with only one housemate, who she couldn't remember half the time?

Of course, she wouldn't be living here anymore, would she?

Chizara tried the door. “Locked.”

“So?” Kelsie pulled a slender piece of metal from her pocket. She knelt and inserted one end of it into the lock.

“Um, really?” Chizara asked. “Do you
always
carry that?”

“You are
so
straight-edge sometimes,” Kelsie murmured, probing delicately in the lock. “And you need a bed.”

With a click the door swung open. Even with the lights off, the small dark room looked tidy and ordered. The futon was neatly made, and the books on their crowded shelves were organized by height and color.

“Wow,” Kelsie said, switching on the light. “What a neat freak.”

“You think?” Anon's room was no neater than Chizara's
own. His airspace was a mess, though. A wifi router and a bunch of other gadgets all pinged at her.

She rubbed her arms. “Think he'd mind if we moved his futon downstairs?”

“Like, you want to sleep in the actual Dish?”

“Yeah, down in the Faraday cage. It's much quieter.”

“Sure, awesome.” Kelsie tossed Anon's pillow and quilt into the middle of his futon and grabbed hold of one corner. “Would it be weird if we took
my
mattress down there too?”

“Like a slumber party? Hey, it's your last night here. Maybe my last time too.” Her throat grew tight as she said the words. “Might as well have fun.”

They hauled the futon, thumping down the stairs, then went and got Kelsie's mattress. They arranged it all in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by glorious Faraday cage silence.

“Now go outside and call your mom,” Kelsie said, plumping one of her pillows. “She's a nice lady. Don't make her worry! I'll get dinner together.”

*  *  *

The streetlights were just coming on as Chizara stepped outside. The street was Christmas-night empty, but Cambria's networks filled the cold air, a storm of insects nipping at her face and arms. She longed to get back inside to the warmth and silence.

Mom was okay with the late notice—of course, she had a fresh houseful of dinner guests to tend to.

“But what about pajamas? Toothbrush?”

“Kelsie's got everything I need,” Chizara said. Maybe Anon-a.k.a.-Teebo had an unopened toothbrush in some alphabetized drawer of spare toiletries.

“All right. Call us in the morning if you need a ride home.”

“Love you, Mom!” she said as brightly as she could manage.

She powered the phone down and went back inside, shutting the insect storm out of the Dish, locking the door, and pulling the blinds down over glass and mesh.

A few colored spots were wandering around the dance floor.

“Hey!” she called. “Lights are
my
job!”

Kelsie was emptying corn chips into a bowl on the bar. “I was going to put on music, but I want to be able to hear.”

“Couldn't you
feel
Swarm coming?”

“Of course. What I meant was, hear you talk.” She'd turned off her phone too, leaving the Dish in a state of perfect calm. “It's hardly ever just you and me.”

They sat at the bar and crunched into the corn chips, opening jars of salsa and guacamole, washing it all down with beer. Dinner Kelsie-style was just fine with Chizara right now.

“So back at your house,” Kelsie said into the silence, “you said something about the mall? About all those people, after Swarm let them go.”

Chizara shivered. “I couldn't stop reading about them yesterday—I gave myself such a headache. They remember everything they did. And not only are they traumatized, but they'll remember it every Christmas from now on, you know?”

Kelsie took a drink of her beer. “Yeah. I'm not exactly looking forward to July fourth next year.”

“At least none of them will get charged with murder. Everyone's saying it was terrorism, like some kind of gas that makes you violent.”

Kelsie's hand was cool on Chizara's sunburned arm. “We're not in that world anymore.”

Chizara blinked at her.

“The world where cops and courts decide things,” Kelsie said. “With Swarm around, you have to get justice in other ways.”

She let go, and crunched another corn chip. The room was big and quiet around them, the spots of light swinging slowly around the walls.

“Thanks for staying,” Kelsie said. “I wouldn't have been brave enough to be here on my own.”