Swarm

by Scott Westerfeld

“Ha!” said Emile as his phone chimed to life.

  Thibault bent down to him. “Can I do something?”

  “Sure.” Emile handed it over.

  He watched as Thibault opened the address book, created a new contact—Thibault (brother)—and entered his number.

  “Like I know any other Thibaults,” Emile scoffed.

  “You never know, bro. There are a lot of us around.”

  * * *

  He chose his moment to join Mom in the kitchen.

  She’d mixed all the chopped-up chocolate into the milk, and there was only the whisking to do. By some miracle Grand-mère wasn’t with her, and the aunts were out on the patio, smoking in the cold.

  “Joyeux Noël, Mom,” he said in the doorway.

  She looked up, the whisk pausing in the pot.

  Her smile, nervous at first, firmed up. She straightened and put her arms out to him. “Joyeux Noël, Thibault!”

  He held the hug as long as he could. What if it was the last one he ever got from her?

  “You’ve grown so tall!” she exclaimed as they drew apart. Then she touched her mouth, embarrassed. “But why should I be so surprised . . . to see my own son?”

  He tried to laugh. “You never remember I’m coming, Mom. That’s just how it is with me.”

  “But none of us got you . . . I don’t know if there’s anything for you under the tree!”

  He shrugged. “Hey, where I’m living, stuff’s just a nuisance.”

  “Where’s that again?” she said, hands to her cheeks.

  “In the Heights. A really nice place. I’ll show you some pictures later, on my phone.” But he wouldn’t be there much longer.

  Keep separate. Be a moving target, Nate had said, his impassive voice as chilling as his words.

  The posse of aunts gathered at the back door—soon they’d crowd in here and he’d fall off Mom’s radar. “Want me to keep whisking that for you?”

  “Why, thank you, sweetie.” Uncertainly she watched him stirring, glancing at his face with that touch of fear, that touch of shame, that always broke his heart.

  Finally she turned to the mugs lined up on the counter, counted them. “Oh, you’ll be wanting some chocolate too, won’t you?”

  “Yes, please!”

  And she took down another mug and lined it up with the others, like it was nothing special at all.

  CHAPTER 40

  MOB

  KELSIE HAD NEVER SPENT CHRISTMAS without her dad before.

  He was the heart and soul of high spirits. He’d gather all their friends in whatever rental he and Kelsie could afford that year—not for a meal, because food wasn’t a big deal for the Laszlos. But there’d be drinks and music and feats of crazy bravery with illegal fireworks. And Kelsie got to stay up all night, riding wave after wave of good cheer.

  But all that felt like a long, long time ago. She’d been dreading this first Christmas alone. And since the mall, she could feel the dark chain that connected her to Swarm like an anchor, dragging her down.

  Yesterday afternoon, while they were wiping down the stolen car, Chizara had rescued her with a quiet, hesitant invitation. And now Kelsie was sitting at the Okeke family dining table, trying not to look shell-shocked while Chizara’s mom offered her more jollof rice and curry and bread. She’d never seen so much food in one place.

  “This is really good, Mrs. Okeke,” she said.

  “Call me Niyi,” Chizara’s mom said.

  “It’s delicious, Niyi,” Kelsie said, and meant it. She couldn’t believe Chizara got to eat like this all the time.

  “Oh, honey, you can come to dinner anytime!” Niyi chuckled.

  Beside her, Chizara rolled her eyes, but she looked almost as pleased as her mom.

  Chizara’s mom was sweet and sharp, with a broad smile. And she knew about Chizara’s power. Exactly the way Kelsie figured a good mom should just know things without her having to explain them like she’d always had to with Dad. Even then, Dad had never really understood.

  She liked the rest of Chizara’s family too—her father, Sani, and her brothers, Ikem and Obinna. With Kelsie that made six people, enough for the Curve, so she’d taken hold of the feedback loop as soon as she’d stepped into their house. She’d grabbed Niyi’s doubt about one of Chizara’s superpowered friends and smoothed it out. Then she’d tugged on Ikem’s Christmas excitement, stretching it like taffy until it wrapped around all of them.

  When Kelsie had found a gift under the tree with her name on it, her gratitude had sent the energy in the room spiraling higher. She’d ripped off the bright green paper to find a babydoll sweater inside—embroidered red cherries on a snowy white background. She’d put it on at once.

  It was amazing how different Chizara’s life was outside the Zeroes. Here there was no hint of Nate’s bombastic plans or Ethan’s lies. No petty crime or spying through anyone else’s eyes. Just nice, happy people sharing a meal.

  During dessert Niyi leaned in close. “I was sorry to hear about your father, sweetheart.”

  It was the first time anyone had brought it up, and Kelsie felt her grief spike hard into the feedback loop. Ikem looked up, confused, and Sani’s face rumpled with shared sorrow.

  Under the table Chizara’s knee bumped Kelsie’s.

  “Sorry,” Kelsie mumbled.

  She swallowed her own pain, groping for the happiness of a moment before. The contentment of the Okeke family made it easy to find. Their solidity was a refuge where she could think about bad stuff without bursting into tears. Davey, killed in that fountain. Swarm’s power inside her. The way Nate seemed helpless in the face of this new enemy.

  She tried to remember something happy. The bike Dad had gotten her one Christmas.

  Though, actually, Dad had stolen the bike. Kelsie had ended up riding right past the house he’d lifted it from, and she’d had to face off with a kid twice her size. She was more careful with the skateboard he gave her the next year.

  But another year he’d taken her to see the Christmas pageant on ice. For once he’d paid actual money instead of sneaking in, so she’d been able to sit up front. It had been a window onto a strange, other world. One where everyone was beaming with joy, and the audience sang along with the music, their mood as choreographed as the skaters’ moves. Where the skilled, graceful, glittering cast was in charge of keeping everyone happy.

  Kelsie wished she had even a tiny piece of that kind of control. Skating across the bad emotions. Only ever feeling the good stuff and scattering it out into a delighted world.

  * * *

  After lunch, Ikem and Obinna cleared the table while their parents made phone calls to faraway relatives. That left Chizara and Kelsie in the living room, staring at a tree with lights that shimmered and winked.

  “Your family’s awesome,” Kelsie said.

  “Nah. They’re pretty normal.”

  “Exactly.” Kelsie felt anything but normal, most of the time. “Is it really okay that I’m here?”

  “Are you kidding?” Chizara said. “You’re the best thing about this Christmas.”

  Kelsie nearly burst out laughing. She felt her delight bloom across the family, who were still connected, even spread across the house.

  “I mean it,” Chizara said shyly. “Mom’s always giving me death stares when I mention my friends—a bunch of spoiled white kids with weird powers. But then you show up, and she’s all smiles.”

  “I get it,” Kelsie said with mock seriousness. “You miss the death stares.”

  “If you’d seen the death stares, you wouldn’t joke.” Chizara lowered her voice. “It’s not fair, though. You use your power to make everyone happy, and you’re her long-lost daughter. When I use mine, I’m a moral failure.”

  Kelsie was stung. “It’s not like I’m making anybody feel anything. I’m just using what’s already here. And imagine if your family wasn’t here, Zara. What we’d be feeling now . . .”

  Kelsie let the sentence taper off. They’d be feeling Davey di
e, again and again. And she would be feeling Swarm showing her the dark door in her own soul.

  “That’s sort of my point,” Chizara said. “You amplify happiness. I specialize in property damage! Nate says crash this fountain or fry this cop car, and I do it. And half of the time, it’s to help Ethan.”

  “He’d do the same for you. Any of the Zeroes would.”

  “We can’t keep committing felonies for our messed-up friends!” Chizara whispered. “Do you remember what happened last summer? Officer Bright’s still in rehab, for a start.”

  Kelsie was quiet. Maybe Chizara had forgotten, but her dad was one of the prisoners that had escaped that day—prisoners the Zeroes had released. And if he’d stayed in jail, he might still be alive.

  She caught hold of her grief before it could flood the family.

  “I almost wish Ethan’s sister would blab to their mom,” Chizara went on, lost in her own emotions. “If the cops shut the Dish down, we could all go back to our real lives.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Kelsie was horrified. “On top of everything else, you want to lose the Dish?”

  “We experiment with people there,” Chizara said. “How is that right?”

  Kelsie shook her head. She tried to hold on to the cheerfulness of earlier.

  “It’s not experimenting. It’s sharing what we have.”

  “My mom thinks what we have is evil—bad juju. What if she’s right? Think of all those people at the mall. From what I’ve seen, they remember what they did.”

  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.”

  CHAPTER 41

  CRASH

  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?”