Right. Never mind.
Wren landed beside the delivery ship with ease, and the cargo ramp groaned as it started to unfold. My legs barely supported my weight as I stood and rushed from the cockpit, leaving its potential dangers lurking in the captain’s chair.
Either she was on to me, or I was too paranoid for my own good.
15
I grabbed Elio’s arm the second my feet hit the tarmac. “Pretend you’re me. If you had a really huge problem, what would you do about it?”
Elio’s squeaky voice took on an even squeakier tone. He flapped his arms around his head. “Oh no, look at me! I’m Cora. My family is dreadfully self-absorbed except for my best friend, Elio. If I have a problem, he’ll help me steal something to fix it and then we can—”
“What are you doing?”
“Role playing.” The high-pitched whir of his fans slowly died down. “You said pretend to be you.”
“Cut the sass. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Fine. Our lives are already one huge problem though. You realize that, right? But since you asked, when I’m stressed, I love to eat bread.”
“Elio, you know you can’t—”
“And honey,” he added with a beep.
“Never mind,” I huffed. Maybe I was overreacting. No matter what Wren thought she knew about me, she would never find the real key. It was looped on a long chain around my neck, buried beneath layers of undershirts and two flight suits. The only way she could get her hands on it was if she dug through the clothes on my body while I was sleeping.
On second thought … maybe it would be best to keep my eyes open for the next week and a half. Until after this charade had ended. Yeah. Definitely couldn’t risk sleep.
That wouldn’t be a problem at all, right?
I peered into the dark hole of the cargo hold. Wren had exited before Elio and me, and was making her way toward a line of waiting pod ships ready to transport passengers into town. I hadn’t spotted Anders anywhere.
“Are you coming?” Wren called. “I want to put the ramp up.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Maybe I’d missed him? The outpost was small, but it seemed crowded today—mostly with Earthans and Martians, although I noticed a few winged women from Avis holding hands and a pair of fathers from Condor shepherding their children across the nearest intersection. A long gravel road separated the landing bays from the town, which was only a few streets made of brick-and-mortar businesses intermixed with food carts and stalls selling colorful, handmade items. There wasn’t any vegetation on the outpost that I could find, just a water tower looming behind the shops. It didn’t seem like the people who lived here had much, but all the groups that passed me as I left the tarmac were smiling from ear to ear.
Except, of course, Anders.
Because I still didn’t see him.
“Maybe he fell asleep?” Elio suggested. I just stared at him. I was pretty sure Anders slept with one eye open. (Maybe both.) He was unlikely to miss the landing.
My eyes made one last sweep of the tarmac, looking into the shadows surrounding every ship. The sun was setting, floodlights illuminating the landing bays and the surrounding streets. If there was a grumpy Andilly warrior creeping around out here, I didn’t see him.
I turned away from the Starchaser as the ramp folded into the hull with a clang. Looked like he would have to eat whatever snacks we brought back to the ship without complaint.
I’d just taken my first step toward town when a tall figure cut in front of me. Instinctively, I reached for my blaster before remembering that I’d left it in my cabin to recharge.
“Looking for someone?” the boy asked.
“Andy?” His name was out of my mouth before I could stop it, but no—that wasn’t right. It was his voice, his same rough accent, his same black eyes. He wore the same green flight suit as he had earlier, paired with a zippered sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, but his face was … very much not Andy.
“I know, I know.” He grabbed my arm and started tugging me at a steady clip across the tarmac. “You don’t have to say it. I’m ugly.”
“You’re—an Earthan.” I pulled to a stop. Elio, who was following too closely, crashed into my legs and fell to the ground. “Why do you look like an Earthan? How do you look like an Earthan?”
Anders—or the boy I thought might be Anders—ran a hand through a mop of dark, unruly hair. Usually it was impossible for me to read his aura, but now it exploded off him, a kaleidoscope of navy blue misery mixed with ruby red fury, covered with iron gray bars that told me he was trying (and failing) to make himself go completely numb.
He held out a hand between us, and his skin flashed from tan to its usual scaly red to tan again before he stuffed his fist in the pocket of his sweatshirt.
“Shape-shifting,” I said, connecting the dots. Parts of his face still looked like him—his hooked nose, the angry set of his jaw, the old scar that wrapped around his neck. But he had leaner muscles now, his teeth were no longer sharp, and his stance had grown stooped. He looked so innocent and human that even I thought I could pick a fight with him and win.
“Stop staring,” he grumbled, looking at his feet.
“You’re a shape-shifter,” I repeated. “Don’t you think that’s information we should have known?”
“I thought it was obvious.” He made one of his fingers grow into a long claw before retracting it.
“Yeah, but this…” I gestured to his body. “Is a little extreme.”
“You’re cute now,” Elio piped up.
“Quiet. I’m hideous.”
He wasn’t hideous. He was gawky, certainly, but he sort of had this understated sweetness now that he didn’t come off like he wanted to devour anyone who looked at him the wrong way. It wasn’t bad, but still it somehow felt … wrong. This boy standing in front of us wasn’t the boy who had smiled at me from behind the broken oxygen mask in the Starchaser’s laboratory, who had complimented my inventions and scowled at Wren’s sneezing and fearlessly battled the creatures of Cadrolla. This Earthan boy wasn’t my Andy—I mean our Andy.
I frowned. Ours. Not mine.
What was I thinking? Without his red scales, he looked every bit a demon in disguise. What I needed to be focusing on was this unassuming skill of his and all the ways we could use it to get to the next of Teolia’s keys. Anders was my nothing. Except for my means to an end.
Gravel crunched on the tarmac and suddenly Wren was next to us. “Anders?” she asked hesitantly. He nodded.
She burst out laughing. Groups across the tarmac turned to watch as she doubled over, wiping tears from her eyes. It took a full minute for her cackling to subside.
“Justice is sweet,” she said, studying his Earthan disguise. “Anders, you look…” Another round of cackles. “Yeah. That’s all I got. What’s with the new face?”
Anders took off for the closest street lined with pod ships and merchant booths. “I figured we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Earthans are unassuming. So I’m pretending to be one for your sakes. My kind isn’t typically welcome on planets other than our own. The residents usually think we’re there to murder them, which oftentimes we are.”
“Andilly does have quite the reputation,” I said.
He nodded. We passed a row of tents selling jeweled gauntlets, which Wren stopped to admire (or, more likely, steal). While we waited for her to rejoin us, Elio took the opportunity to pepper Anders with questions. In the next few minutes, I learned that he could transform into humanoid species only; Elio was a little disappointed when Anders told him he couldn’t turn himself into Elio’s favorite Earthan creature—a three-toed sloth.
“But it would be so cool if the Starchaser could have a mascot!” Elio said. Anders looked like he wanted to hit something, but seeing as Elio was far too earnest to hurt, he settled for grinding his knuckles into his palm instead.
Our group split up after that. Elio waddled away to find Wren, and I headed off the main ro
ad to a bench near a crowded café. Twinkling fairy lights made out of winged insects hung over the outside patio, and the sounds of laughter and tinkling china filled the air. Anders tentatively joined me, sitting as far away as possible while pulling his hood lower over his eyes, as if he were ashamed to be seen like this.
“Stop fidgeting,” I said. Nervous bolts of chartreuse crackled around his head as he crossed his legs and then his arms. Then he uncrossed them both and slumped down until his head was almost level with the back of the bench. “Full disclosure, I’m reading your emotions right now.”
“I know.” He tapped his foot at a brisk pace. “I can’t hold them back when I shift. It takes too much energy to do both. Sorry if they’re blinding.”
“They aren’t worse than anyone else’s,” I said. His lips curved into a tiny, almost embarrassed smile. Pair it with his new face and he looked more alarmingly approachable than ever, although his aura continued to spark and pop.
A group of legitimate Earthans passed our bench on the way to the café door. Their eyes skipped right over me, put off by the points of my ears and the unnerving yellow of my irises that marked me as decidedly other, but they lingered on Anders, giving him friendly nods before disappearing inside.
“Maybe you should pose as an Earthan all the time,” I teased once we were alone. “Look how quickly you’re making friends.”
He glowered. “I hate this. You have no idea how strange it is being in another body. Like my skin is too tight.”
“You’re also chattier.”
“I’m uncomfortable. I’m trying to get my mind off it.”
“You’re shorter too.”
He sat up straight, face twisting as if he just ate something particularly sour. He scooted over to me until we were sitting hip to hip.
Even as an Earthan, his head was still half a foot above mine. “Now you’re just being mean.”
“Me? Mean? I didn’t think that would bother you, he who has the stoicism and personality of a brick wall.”
He inclined his head toward me. A thick lock of hair fell across one eye. “Am I a fancy, new brick wall at least?”
I leaned back. “Was that a joke? You become Earthan and you suddenly make jokes?”
“I was under the impression that people enjoyed them. It’s meant to create a bonding moment.”
I gagged. “Not particularly interested in bonding with you in any form, thanks.”
He edged back to his empty corner of the bench, pouting. “Right. That’s good, because I feel the same way. Bonding. Blegh.” He stuck out his tongue. “If I could abstain from any social contact for the rest of my life, it might be too soon.”
“Exactly. That’s why my best friend is a robot.” Of course, neither of us seemed to have the same views on the ship last night. He had been all up in my personal space, a breath away from touching me. Now, I met his gaze underneath the shadow of his hood, and his lips curled at the edges, dark eyes sparkling with barely concealed laughter. He remembered too.
We had almost died together. Like it or not, we had already created a bonding moment.
Brushing wavy strands of hair from his forehead, Anders sighed and scooted to the middle of the bench. When I showed no indication of moving, he huffed and patted the space beside him. “Maybe we should learn to be more social?” he suggested.
“Yeah, sure.” I nudged his shoulder. “When we’re dead.”
He smiled at me then, a shock to my system after I’d shot him down so easily. His smile was so startlingly open and honest and hopeful that the only response I could think of was to grin back until my cheeks hurt. His aura streamed off him in waves, glimmering bright and mixing with the fairy lights on the patio. Like a treasure trove. An oasis in the sun.
It was in that moment I realized how much I preferred his true face. Looking at that one, at least, I remembered who and what I was up against. This one made me want to trust him too damn much.
“Oy! You two!” Wren strutted down the sidewalk toward us, accompanied by Elio. Two giant bundles of clothes were clutched in their arms. Elio’s was so large that he could barely see over it, and he sighed in relief once they deposited the items into our laps. Tactical pants for Anders, fleece-lined leggings for me, and shirts and water-resistant jackets for both of us.
“We stocked up on snacks too,” Wren said. “Hope you like cheese puffs, because that’s all we could find.”
“To my limited Earthan knowledge, cheese is not puffy,” said Anders.
Wren and I both snorted. “You’re an adorable little alien.” She must have found his new face as trusting as I did, because she reached out to pinch his cheeks. She jumped back when he snapped his teeth like a caged animal.
“Try that again,” he dared.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
Anders stood from the bench, holding up his new clothes. Then he—what in all the stars?—started to strip off his sweatshirt and flight suit and change his outfit right there on the sidewalk.
“You can’t do that out here!” I jumped up to block him as a group of passersby wolf-whistled, but that only put me way too close to his naked chest. Maybe Andillians walked around all the time in the buff in the military, but I didn’t want to make it obvious to the entire outpost that he didn’t belong.
A second group heading into the café pulled out their comm links to film the spectacle.
“Can’t do what?” Anders tossed his old clothes in the nearest trash receptacle before buttoning his fly and shrugging on his jacket, which was a tad too big on his leaner Earthan frame. “Wren, these are fine quality. Tell me you didn’t steal them.”
“It’s like you don’t know me at all. And it’s only stealing if they see you take something. Otherwise, their item of great value is simply … misplaced.”
“Stars, you could run for office on my planet with that outlook,” he replied.
“Maybe I should. My face would look fantastic on a giant stack of money. C’mon, follow me.” She led our party down the street, away from Anders’s new fans. “So we’ve got food, new clothes, next is gossip. The tavern’s just around the corner. By the way—Andykins,” she called over her shoulder. “Nice abs. They don’t make up for your crappy personality, but still. Nice abs.”
We weaved through the crowd, which seemed to get denser as the sky grew darker. Cheers rang out and glass bottles clinked as we came upon the Fuzzy Lizard and pushed through the front doors. The room was shaped like a flying saucer, its two levels separated by a glittering quartz ramp furnished with leather-padded handrails. Brass chandeliers and wide net screens hung from the ceiling.
No matter how many planets I’d visited over the years while working with my family, I’d realized pretty quickly that all taverns required four items in order to function properly (besides an abundance of liquor): junk food fried in so much grease you could bathe an army in it; a mysterious musty odor that leeched onto your clothes and remained there for approximately three to five business days; a dozen bar fights that started and ended for seemingly no real reason at all; and drunks. Lots of friendly, close-talking drunks.
The Fuzzy Lizard had a healthy dose of all of the above. Our group weaved between mismatched metal stools surrounding high top tables as we dodged flying bottles and chose a cluster of empty seats at the far end of the bar nearest the bathrooms. Cue the funky, musty odor.
“Just a sec. I’ll get us some cash,” said Wren. She ducked underneath the arm of a cyclops singing off-key karaoke and approached a group of Earthan girls returning from the toilets.
I’d done a fair amount of pickpocketing in my day, yielding varying results, and I could admit that her technique was superb. She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in just the right amount of I’m-going-to-hurl terror, and bumped the tallest girl’s arm as they crossed in opposite directions. Even while faking sick, Wren was all lithe, quick movements, her footsteps as silent as the crushing vacuum of space. I didn’t see her fingers wrap around the clutch
that stuck out from the girl’s coat pocket, but when I noticed Wren’s own jacket hang with a similar weight, I knew the transfer had occurred. The girl stumbled back a few paces before being steadied by one of her friends, and Wren apologized—enough to be polite, but not enough to be memorable after the group walked away. They joined a rowdy crowd at a long table in an alcove across the tavern, Wren’s mark instantly laughing about something the boy next to her said, her hands crawling up his shoulders. As intended, Wren and the stolen clutch were now the furthest things from her mind.
Good enough that your mother might want to hire a thief that can operate a charter ship? she had asked onboard the Starchaser. Just the thought of it made my breath hitch. Evelina would dote on Wren in a way that she’d never doted on me, but now that I saw Wren in action, I knew she could do far better than working for my family’s crime empire. One day, with enough experience, Wren could lead her own.
After extracting a handful of folded bills from the depths of the purse, Wren threw the rest of the girl’s possessions in the trash can beside the bathrooms. “Here,” she said, forking over the money to Anders. “Buy yourselves something tasty.”
“Good trick,” he said.
“Oh, that? A baby could do it.”
“Not necessarily,” said Elio. “Cora only has a twenty-nine-point-three percent success rate with pickpocketing.”
“Thank you, Elio—oof!” I cried when he shimmied onto my lap to see over the bar top, elbowing my boob in the process. “Why yes, of course you can use me as your own personal booster seat.”
“Much thanks.”
Wren looked around to make sure no one was watching, then reached over the bar and grabbed two pewter tankards. She shot me a sly wink before shoving them into a paisley carpetbag. At the rate she was going today, we would need to commandeer a second ship just to carry all her ill-gotten goods.
“I need a drink,” I muttered. I called out to the bartender, a bald alien with two heads—one wearing a dopey grin, the other a belligerent scowl that rivaled Anders’s own—each with mottled gray skin and a gold hoop earring pierced through the nostrils. Nodding, he brought us four bubbling tankards full of some kind of muddy liquid that he deemed “the house special.”
The Good for Nothings Page 17
