It was pretty cool strolling into a place like this, living here, knowing how to navigate it all. But he could see how it could be intimidating. Especially if you looked like you’d slept in your clothes.
Just like Glorious Leader to think of every detail except lending Ethan a clean shirt.
It was almost a relief when Gerard left the concierge desk and glided across the marble toward them.
Thibault’s first reflex was to appear out of nowhere and stage a collision. It had worked in the police station. But here it would only draw more attention, and Ethan had the voice, after all.
Thibault took a step backward into anonymity.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?” Gerard’s tone was carefully neutral, but there was no mistaking it. He was ready to quietly muscle Ethan out of the place.
It wasn’t Ethan who answered. All at once the nervousness slid off his face. He stood straighter, and his connection with Gerard thickened and brightened like a plasma lamp sparking toward a fingertip.
“My mother’s here with the CADCOMP conference,” the voice said, confident and crack-free. “I’m supposed to meet her outside the Lafayette Room.”
The Lafayette Room. Thibault had heard the voice a hundred times, but there was something extra creepy about it knowing the details of this hotel, a place he’d kept secret from the other Zeroes. The place where he lived.
Gerard’s expression relaxed into a smile, and his arms moved in practiced gestures. “Certainly. The Lafayette’s on level four. Turn right out of the elevator.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan.
A curious flicker of Gerard’s attention snagged on Thibault, who chopped it away and crossed the lobby after Ethan. The guy was tensing up again, turning back into—what had Flicker called him that time?—that little rat-weasel.
What a pain to be visible all the time, especially when you looked like Ethan, small and twitchy and crafty.
Thibault had once strolled through this lobby stark naked, just to see if he could. It had been way too easy. Turned out people didn’t want to see the unexpected. Escaping anonymity wasn’t as simple as stripping off his clothes.
Which was why keeping Ethan from wandering off was going to be tricky. Even getting him to pay attention was exhausting.
As the two neared the elevators, laughter sprayed from the gilt-and-velvet couches in the hotel bar, a group having a few drinks before going out to hit Ivy Street. It was Friday afternoon, only a block from the nightclubs, the very place where Scam had stolen that money.
Thibault was going to have to keep him on a very short leash.
Why had he agreed to this nightmare?
Probably because at lunch, an hour ago, Glorious Leader had locked onto him with that anchor rope of charm, a hundred times stronger than the wavering strands Thibault managed with anyone else.
Nate could also see the shimmers of human interaction in the air. But his power was the reverse of Thibault’s—he could amp those connections stronger, especially at a crowded table. He took the joy of a big group eating good food after a successful mission and focused it, until it felt like he was the only other person in the world, shining his glorious light on you.
And Thibault had fallen for the attention, like he always did.
That was the problem with wanting to be seen, the problem with wanting at all: Someone always used your desires to control you. You just had to look at Ethan: The voice’s true power was that it knew what Ethan wanted. So as long as he kept wanting, he was its slave.
Thibault took a deep breath. It was all a reminder of the Middle Way—to face the world without desires. No good came from needing Nate’s attention, or from fighting anonymity.
Wisdom says I am nothing. He repeated the Zen proverb under his breath.
The elevator came, and the two stepped in together.
Ethan stared at the handwritten note, then pressed the button for the penthouse floor. The light flickered on, off. He pressed it again. “What the hell?”
“Allow me.” Thibault waved his key card.
Ethan backed off, startled. He watched Thibault slot the card and press the button. It stayed lit.
“Hey, thanks,” Ethan said, as if to a helpful stranger. But as the doors closed, his flicker of eye contact settled into something real.
“Oh, right. It’s you. Um . . .” He checked the name scrawled on his hand. “Teebo!”
Thibault took a slow breath, pushing his hair behind his ears. He was really taking another person into his hideaway, his fortress, his home. And out of everyone in the entire world, it had to be this person.
It was going to be a long weekend.
CHAPTER 27
FLICKER
“THE HERO OF OUR TALE has dark hair, falling just above his collar. His eyes are sharp and blue, as if he’s watching something carefully. Or perhaps someone.”
Flicker smiled, not peeking, letting her sister’s voice flow over her. When Lily read from graphic novels or picture books, she always began by describing the characters. Of course, this tale had only one character, and hardly any story at all.
“His parents are still together, it is believed. And he has two younger brothers, names unknown. But he seems to have left home three years ago, our Thibault, about the time his grandmother came to stay.”
They were in the attic, surrounded by the musty smell of old boxes and dust. The air was hot with late afternoon. Muffled sounds of cooking came from below.
“He probably lives downtown, um, ‘judging from response times.’ In a hotel, some say. What is this, Riley?”
The threads of story fluttered away. “I told you, it’s a file on someone.”
“Is Nate stalking this guy? I mean, your boyfriend is kind of weird sometimes.”
Flicker ignored this accusation. Lily had always been jealous of Glorious Leader—who wouldn’t be?—and steadfastly refused to believe that Flicker had never even really kissed him.
“Anon’s this guy we know,” Flicker said. “Like, a friend. Nate keeps a file because we can’t remember him.”
“A friend you can’t remember? Why the hell not?”
“Same reason I know you borrowed my striped socks today. Because superpowers. Now keep reading.”
“I thought you were done with those guys after last summer.”
“We’re working it out,” Flicker said. Lily was jealous of the others, as well. She didn’t like sharing the secret of Flicker’s power.
As her sister grumbled, Flicker let herself go blind again. Papers slid and shuffled on the wooden floor.
“Okay,” Lily finally said. “No one knows where the hero of our tale lives. But he likes to take artsy photos of brick walls, and has good taste in clothes. I’m going to agree with Nate on that last one, but I wish he’d tuck his shirts in.”
“What kind of shirts?”
“Why don’t you just look, lazybones? I’m staring right at the photos.”
Flicker shook her head. “Your voice will stick in my head better. If he’s a character in a story, I won’t forget. That’s how his superpower works, I think.”
“Does that mean I’m going to forget seeing these photos?”
“Of course not. But if you run into Thibault tomorrow, your brain won’t make any connection between him and the pictures. Or something like that. If you’re interested, there’s a section called ‘Theories’ near the end.”
Lily shuffled the papers again. Flicker hoped she wasn’t getting the file out of order, but still didn’t look. From being in the others’ vision, she figured that part of Thibault’s power had to do with how their eyeballs slid off him. It was as much about attention as memory.
Maybe if she didn’t get caught up in seeing Thibault, his invisibility wouldn’t matter so much. She would get to know him instead.
Her sister started reading again. The “Theories” section was mostly random questions and strategies for recording details. That was the key, Nate believed. If you made a habit of wr
iting down things about Thibault, your brain would develop the reflex of coughing up whatever scraps it had stored.
But even Glorious Leader was always wondering how much he’d forgotten.
Flicker sighed. All these theories were telling her more about Nate than . . . damn. The name was gone again, and all she had was Anonymous.
“Wait,” she interrupted. “This isn’t sticking. Tell me a story. Any story, as long as it has elements of him. Details from the photos, or his family. Whatever might jog my brain the next time he’s around.”
“Um, okay.” The sound of Lily’s fingers drumming on the floor came through the heavy air. “Does it have to be realistic?”
Flicker smiled. “Of course not. You telling me fairy tales is pretty much the first thing I can remember. All memories are stories, kind of.”
A soft “huh” came from Lily, as if this was a theory she could get behind. She’d had more fictional boyfriends than most.
“Can I make it a love story?” Lily said. “Like, make him hot, so he sticks in your brain?”
“I guess.” Flicker managed to keep her voice even.
“Don’t worry, Riley, I’ll keep it PG. For now.”
A hush fell over the attic, the sounds of cooking from downstairs fading, the tree branches settling around them.
“Once there was a girl named Riley,” the story began. “Her heart was a secret garden, its stone walls cracked and weathered. And it was hungry.”
Lily went on, telling a story borrowed from a dozen books and TV shows and movies. And slowly her voice began to change. Her lips began to form the words in that old familiar way, with the soft burr of their shared native tongue.
When the twins had been little, even before Riley’s power had revealed itself, they’d spoken a language no one else could understand. It had been lost along the way, but sometimes the old patterns came back, their r’s softening in their mouths. At times it was strong enough that people would ask if they’d overcome a speech impediment. But what they had was an accent, long buried and shared by only two people in the world. . . .
“And one day she met a boy called Nothing, who lived in a secret castle, and she began to learn his ways.”
CHAPTER 28
ANONYMOUS
“DUDE. THIS ROOM kills.”
Thibault watched from the doorway, smiling at the wide-eyed look on Ethan’s face as he took in the padded leather club chairs, the wall sconces fanning light up onto the textured wallpaper, and the picture window full of ocean and late-afternoon sun.
“I know,” Thibault said, a little ashamed. “It’s kind of too much.”
“Too much? It’s insane! I didn’t know people this rich ever came to Cambria!”
“They don’t, usually. These penthouse rooms mostly stay empty. That’s why I live up here. So the hotel doesn’t lose any money.”
Ethan nodded slowly at the view out the picture window. For a moment his attention seemed gone for good. But then he turned, one eyebrow lifted. “Doesn’t lose money? You mean you’re not paying for this place? You’re scamming it?”
Thibault blinked. Ethan had the gall to throw that word at someone else?
“No one else is using it,” Thibault said carefully. “I’m not stealing anything, just borrowing.”
Ethan laughed. “Nice work, dude. It’s so huge! The only hotel I ever stayed in, the beds took up the whole room. Where are the beds, anyway? Oh, I guess in here, right?”
As Ethan walked into one of the suite’s bedrooms, Thibault felt himself disappear, snipped from existence by the wall between them. Ethan’s voice faded into muttering, as if he’d only been talking to himself all along.
Thibault sighed. His ego always felt the burn, even if it was just Scam forgetting him.
Maybe they should switch to a smaller room. But the hotel was filling up as the big Fourth of July celebrations got closer, and anywhere bigger than an elevator would make him just as hard to see.
“You hungry?” Thibault called.
That got the guy’s attention. He stuck his head out, looking puzzled for a moment. But then a big grin crossed his face, his memory of Thibault flickering back to life.
“Dude.” He glanced at his palm. “Teebo, I mean. I could totally slay a hamburger.”
* * *
It had been a long time since Thibault had ordered room service. There was no way to call it “borrowing.” It was out-and-out theft.
He usually lifted unsold sandwiches and salads from the deli down the street, or overages from the farmers’ market. But Thibault couldn’t leave this room until Glorious Leader figured out the next step. Looking after Ethan was a full-time job, like having a kid. A kid with attention deficit disorder and half the city’s gangsters and cops hunting him.
So they’d have to make do with what was on hand. Luckily, that was a fully staffed kitchen, anxious to satisfy the guests’ every whim.
As they waited for the food to arrive, Ethan played with the bank of light switches by the door, the TV remote, and the electric window blinds.
Then he found the minibar.
“Teebo! What the hell! Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Um, it’s kind of tricky, replacing stuff from—”
But Ethan was already tearing open a Toblerone bar.
Thibault closed his eyes and took a slow breath, practicing stillness for a moment.
“You didn’t forget about that burger on its way, did you?” He’d made Ethan watch as he logged into the hotel’s network to place the order, so the fact that food was coming would stick in his mind.
“You said it would take half an hour, man,” Ethan said with his mouth full. He strolled to the window. The ocean was glittering with the afternoon sun, just visible beyond the skyline of Cambria. “You must feel like you’re the boss of everything, sitting up here.”
“Not exactly,” Thibault said. Was there any point explaining the Middle Way to this guy? If anyone needed some Zen in his life, it was Ethan. But whatever Thibault told him would slip out of his head.
Maybe if it was simple enough. “This room isn’t mine, Ethan. Neither is that view. No one owns the sunset.”
Ethan eyed the view, then laughed. “Dude. Anyone rich enough to shell out for this room totally owns the sunset. So how does your scam work? Do you just, like, turn invisible when real guests show up?”
Thibault stifled a sigh. No luck with Zen. But maybe superpowers would stay in Ethan’s head. “I’m not invisible. People just have trouble focusing on me, and they forget me when they look away. Like a person walking behind you on a crowded street. You know someone’s there, but you don’t think about it.”
“No kidding. Hanging out with you is like having a ninja around. You’re always sneaking up on me!”
“That wouldn’t happen if you focused.” The last word came out sharply enough that Ethan’s attention sizzled in the air. But shouting wasn’t the answer. “I have a system here. I keep track of the hotel bookings, and move out if anyone reserves this room.”
“So you hack their computers? Like when you ordered the food?”
“I just watch and learn. When it’s busy enough at the front desk, people don’t notice me, even if I’m looking over their shoulders.”
“Pretty cool.” Ethan took another bite of chocolate. “So you’ve really got this place worked out, huh?”
Thibault shrugged and turned away, letting their connection waver. He hadn’t brought Ethan up here to show off his power. The point of teaching wasn’t to feed your own ego.
But it was pretty cool, all his quiet observation of the staff, the protocols, the schedules. And at least his explanations were keeping Ethan focused, which made the guy less likely to wander out into the arms of hotel security.
“Getting a room is easy,” Thibault said. “The tricky part is making sure I don’t cost the hotel too much. Or add any work for the staff.”
“You mean you clean your own room?” Ethan pulled back the chocolat
e bar wrapper, laughing.
“Chop the wood, carry the water,” Thibault said. A little more Zen for Ethan to forget.
“Seriously? You scrub the toilet just so you can pretend you aren’t stealing anything?”
Was that the voice, winding up for an attack? Thibault felt a trickle of panic, but their connection was only the scratchy grabbing of an argument, not the talon grip of the beast. This was Ethan talking. He was keeping the promise he’d made in the car.
But he was still being a dick.
Thibault said evenly, “I don’t pretend.”
“All you guys pretend. You call me Scam, but Glorious Leader controls people’s minds, and Flicker hijacks people’s eyes—even the government doesn’t do that. And look at this.” He flung out an arm at the magnificent sunset. “You live rent-free in the sky! Crash might be a walking disaster zone, but at least she admits it when she’s breaking the law.”
“I know this is illegal.” Thibault still kept his voice steady. “But it’s not like I can get a job. And I control the effect I have on the people who work here.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky?” Ethan’s sarcastic look was spoiled a little by the smear of chocolate at one corner of his mouth. “All in control of your power! Me, I’ve had this thing talking through me my whole life, and I never know what’s going to happen next. Crash, too. We’ve got these frickin’ fire hoses, and we’re just hanging on to the handles. You and Flicker and Nate have got it easy!”
White-hot anger flashed through Thibault. This little rat-weasel thought being anonymous was easy? After what his voice had said last summer, in front of the whole group?
Of course, Ethan didn’t remember that. If he listened to his voice, then he’d have to take some responsibility for what it said.
Thibault managed to stay calm, but his throat felt tight. “I don’t control my power. I can’t turn it off.”
“Sure you can! We’re sitting here talking, aren’t we?”
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