The Flight of the Silvers (36 page)

Mia looked to David with wide-eyed hurt. He lowered his head.

“Let’s just go there,” Zack said, through a pained wince. “At least until Hannah wakes up.”

They scanned the hall for witnesses, then made a run for Suite 1255. In Zack’s impaired condition, it took him four tries to reverse the door lock.

Their new hideout was just a quarter the size of the Baronessa Suite, with only two beds and one bathroom. Half the furniture had been stowed in a bedroom while the other half was covered in spattered sheets.

The smell of new paint made Amanda light-headed. She wobbled toward Theo.

“Put her down on the couch. I need to check her head. Mia, get me some hand towels from the bathroom. Soak one in cold water.”

David held her arm. “I think you need to rest.”

“Someone has to sneak out to a pharmacy. I’ll make a list. We need bandages . . . We need . . .”

Amanda’s eyelids fluttered. Her legs turned to jelly. David caught her in mid-faint.

—

She woke up in bed, grimacing. An awful taste filled her mouth, like cardboard dipped in sour milk. She touched her forehead, surprised to feel adhesive bandages over her cuts.

Hannah lay unconscious on the other side of the bed. Someone had wrapped a long gauze strip around her skull, securing a folded towel to the back of her head.

Mia watched her from the doorway. “You all right?”

Amanda dazedly blinked at her. “How long was I out?”

“A while. It’s almost four o’clock now.”

“Did you do the bandages?”

“Yeah. I hope they’re okay.”

“They’re fine. Who got the supplies?”

“David. He was careful. He brought back a little food too, if you feel like eating.”

The thought made Amanda queasy. She tested Hannah’s vitals. “If she doesn’t wake up soon, I’m taking her to a hospital.”

“You know you can’t do that.”

“I’m not going to lose her.”

“You’ll lose her to the Deps if you take her to a hospital. You’ll never see her again.”

Amanda pressed her palms to her bleary face. Mia hesitated before throwing the next issue at her.

“Listen, I only gave Zack an epallay. I wasn’t sure how to do the rest.”

“What do you mean? I thought he was okay.”

Mia sighed, focusing hard on the Amanda who saved Zack and not the one who hurt him.

“I think you should go see him.”

—

The second bedroom was a miniature labyrinth of stacked wooden furniture. In the center of the maze was a full-size bed, in the center of the bed was a stretched-out man, and in the center of the man was a cruel and jagged problem.

Zack bit his lower lip, swallowing his cries while Amanda tested each rib for damage.

“This one?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Hold still.”

Mia sat on a dresser, feeling more and more like a voyeur as she watched Amanda place adhesive tape on Zack’s chest. There was something uncomfortably sensual about the way Amanda touched Zack’s shoulder whenever she reached for a new strand, the way he stared at her neck as she worked on him. Once Mia felt sufficiently educated about the treatment process, she left the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Amanda ran a taut finger along another rib. “This one?”

“No.”

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I have no reason to lie about it.”

“You also have no reason to act macho around me.”

“I think the last thing either of us needs today—”

He sucked a sharp breath when she found the next cracked rib. Amanda peeled a new strip of tape. Her mouth quivered in tight suppression.

“Can you please just yell at me a little bit so I feel less awful?”

“I told you—”

“I know. I was drugged. I wasn’t responsible. Everyone keeps saying that. But be honest. Would you accept that excuse if you had rifted me today?”

“Probably not,” Zack admitted. “But if I had unrifted you immediately afterward, I’d go a lot easier on myself.”

She shot a sardonic grunt at his bandages. “Right. No harm done.”

“I still can’t believe you caught me.”

“Me neither. It was insane. I didn’t have a single thought in my head. It’s like the tempis just took over.”

“Well, I’m glad the tempis likes me.”

“It likes you,” she sighed. “There’s no question of that.”

In the center of Zack’s cruel and jagged problem was a hot new urge. He wanted to run his hands all over Amanda, explore her with his fingers like a blind man would. He assumed whatever drug Evan had slipped him was still floating around in his veins, eating away at his formidable inhibitions.

Amanda finished mending him, then helped him slide his shirt back on. She told him that he’d have to take it easy for the next few weeks. Zack humored her as if such a thing were possible.

After clearing away the bandage debris, she finally met his stare with deep green sadness.

“She’ll wake up,” Zack assured her. “I know it.”

“How? How can you be sure about anything? It seems like no matter what we do—”

“Amanda . . .”

“It’s just going to get worse.”

“Hey.” He reached for her golden cross necklace and squeezed it between his fingers. “Whatever happened to the woman of faith?”

“Today happened. Now where’s the agnostic with no answers?”

“He was saved,” Zack replied, with a dark and feeble smirk.

Amanda placed a soft hand on his cheek. Her sister’s angry words still stuck in her thoughts like a bee’s broken stinger.
You’ve been a widow for eight weeks! Eight weeks, and this is how you act!

She pulled away. “Don’t sleep on your side. And force a few coughs to break up the fluid in your lungs.”

“Amanda . . .”

“I’ll check on you later.”

She fled the room without looking back. Zack watched her depart, then groaned his way back to the mattress. Though he folded his hands over his chest like a serene cadaver, his eyes danced with life and uncertainty.

—

While Hannah and Zack convalesced, the others passed the time in the small living area. Amanda and Theo sat on the couch like waiting room strangers—staring at walls, avoiding each other’s gaze. They both had Hannah on their minds, a hanging mobile of worries that would only spin faster if they acknowledged each other.

At seven o’clock, David made everything worse by turning on the lumivision.

“Sorry, Amanda. We need to know.”

As they feared, their awful brunch had become a top story nationwide. More than a hundred photographs had been snapped during the eighty-eight seconds Zack dangled in a great tempic arm. Most of the pictures were worm’s-eye shots from the grotto, distant enough to obscure his features. Mia balked at the most damning photo—a crystal-clear image of Zack that had been shot through a telephoto lens. One reporter remarked that he looked like a mouse being crushed by a python, an observation that sent the python to tears.

Mia rubbed Amanda’s back. “This isn’t your fault. It’s Evan’s.”

“It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s going to recognize Zack now.”

David tilted his head at the image. “No they won’t. Unless he finds another way to float horizontally with a contorted expression of pain, no one will make the connection.”

Soon the news report transitioned to a live Q&A with the lead Dep on scene, shot downstairs in the lobby. Andy Cahill was a leathery codger who delivered curt words through a bushy mustache and a sandy baritone. His whiskers curled in a patient smile as he indulged the reporter’s questions.
Are the people involved still at large?
Yes.
Do you believe they’re foreign terrorists?
Doesn’t seem likely.
Do you think the shooting death of the hotel manager is somehow connected?
That does seem likely.
Anything you can tell us about the tempic device that was used today?
Nope.

When teasingly asked if he considered the possibility of Gothams, Cahill chuckled softly and told the reporter she watched too many movies.

All throughout the interview, Theo sat forward in rapt attention, fixing his gaze on a female agent in the background. Though she moved too fast to provide a decent look, her dark skin and flowing dreadlocks were enough to ring every bell in Theo’s head. His thoughts screamed with recognition, as if she’d been a crucial part of his life from the moment he first drew breath.

Once the scene changed, he snapped out of his trance and flipped his mirrored senses. It wasn’t the past he knew her from. She was a towering presence to come. That dark and faceless woman loomed over every corner of his future.

—

Propriety went out the window at bedtime, when Mia crawled under the covers with Zack, and David asked Amanda for permission to sleep with her sister.

“I’m not a beagle,” the boy declared. “I can’t just doze on some couch or rug. I need a bed. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. And I’ll wake you right away if Hannah’s condition changes.”

Amanda traded a dim look with Theo, then gave David an acquiescent shrug. She raised a worried eyebrow when he closed the door behind him.

“Did I just make an awful mistake?”

Theo smirked. “Even if she was conscious, Hannah wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean if he shares a bed with her or if he tries something?”

“Yes.”

She covered her laugh with a hand, feeling guilty to be glib under the circumstances. She slipped out of her sweaty T-shirt and into a tank top, stunning Theo with her sudden lack of inhibition. What a strange unit the six of them had become. He already felt more at home with the Silvers than he ever did with the Maranans.

Amanda turned off the light and stretched out on the long sofa. Theo had curled up in the love seat, his bandaged thigh dangling awkwardly over the edge. She asked him if he’d be okay like that. He assured her he was quite the beagle.

At dawn, a shrill electronic chirp blared throughout the suite. Zack’s eyelids fluttered in jarring disruption. He dazedly processed the teenage girl in his bed, then plucked his ringing handphone from the dresser.

Mia rolled over and opened a groggy eye. “What time is it?”

“Early.”

“Who’s calling?”

“Well, that’s the weird thing.”

He held the phone in front of her. She squinted at the screen.
Mia Calling.

For a brief disturbing moment, Mia wondered if her future self had discovered a new venue. Once the ringing stopped, she stumbled onto the saner theory.

“Someone found my phone. The one I threw away.”

Zack had a strong idea who it was. When the phone rang a second time, he painfully scuttled out of bed. Mia sat up in worry.

“Wait. You’re not going to answer that, are you?”

“I’ll be all right.”

“But it could be—”

Before she could finish, Zack pressed the phone to his ear and heaved a sigh into the speaker.

“Hello and up yours, Evan.”

From the airy balcony of his newest suite, Evan laughed. This was his fifth trip through their conversation. Zack always started the same way.

“Good morning,” he said, with sunny cheer. “How are the new digs?”

“Spiffy,” he’ll say, and then inquire my purpose in calling.

“Spiffy,” Zack said. “Are you calling to gloat or is there another reason?”

“For you, my friend, I’m all rainbows and kittens. Come outside. Let’s talk privately.”

Beyond the sliding glass door, two naked corpses bled out on the bed. This suite’s balcony was the only place Evan could get a decent view of the Silvers’ new hideout. Tragically, the room had been occupied by a pair of young newlyweds who were light sleepers and loud screamers. Evan had to rewind twelve times before he was able to murder them quietly. It didn’t help that he’d invaded their room in a smiling gray goblin mask.

Evan pressed binoculars to his eyeholes, waiting for Zack to emerge onto the patio.

“By the way, I’m sorry about the mimosa prank. I only wanted the sisters to shriek and pull some hair. I didn’t expect a full tempic smackdown. Jesus.”

Zack stepped outside and slid the door shut. He scanned Tower Two, the only spire within view.

“Over here,” said Evan. “Top floor.”

Zack squinted across the distance at the tiny waving goblin. “You’re wearing a mask.”

“No. This is just how I look in the morning.”

“Why the mask? I’ve already seen your face.”

“It’s for the Deps and their damn ghost drills,” Evan explained. “They can be a real hassle when they’ve got your mug in their system, as you’ll soon discover. The woman on your tail is particularly smart. In fact, I’d say she’s your next big problem.”

“I’m still stuck on the current one.”

Evan sighed. “I know. I’m a handful. Look, you took this call because you’re hoping to reason with me, to convince me to leave you guys alone. The good news is that there’s a way. Let’s just . . . Whoops. Here comes the concern brigade.”

Mia, Amanda, and Theo stood at the glass door, all watching Zack with leery caution. Theo and Amanda backed off at the sight of Zack’s assuring palm. Mia kept her nervous vigil.

Evan chuckled. “Ah, that Farisi. Such a little sweetheart. Enjoy it now before she changes.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I mean all teenagers are wet clay, but Mia really takes a different shape. Sometimes she becomes a thin and pretty slut-tease, the Third Little Given. Other times she hardens into a fat and angry ass-kicker. That’s when she’s really fun.”

“Evan . . .”

“Most of the time, she just dies. It’s weird. She’s like the team’s cannon fodder. She rarely makes it to Year Two.”

Zack’s empty stomach churned. “You’re obviously trying to upset me.”

“No. If I wanted to upset you, I’d tell you how David turns out.”

He’d called Zack at the crack of dawn in the hope of dulling his sharp edge. And yet in the first four run-throughs of the conversation, Zack kept finding new and clever ways to gain the upper hand. Evan was determined to keep him off balance in Round 5.

“Why do you hate us so much?” Zack asked. “What did we ever do to you?”

Evan exhaled impatiently. It was like living in a world full of senile people. They never remembered.

“It’s not worth getting into. Just know that I only really have it in for the Givens. Theo and the kids? Meh. Take them or leave them. But you,
mein Freund
, I can never stay mad at. Truth be told, I really miss our chats.”