Zeroes

by Scott Westerfeld

  She hadn’t been home since Thursday night. She was tired and scared and homeless, and her thoughts kept coming back to Axel.

  The bank video was all over the internet, but the guy himself was missing in action. So where was he now?

  Fig said, “You taking the cash to your old man tonight?”

  “I have to wait until he calls.”

  “Where you staying?” Fig asked.

  “At Ling’s.” And tomorrow night probably Remmy’s again. Then maybe Mikey’s. She couldn’t think that far ahead.

  “It’ll be okay, Kelsie. You’ll see.” Fig gave her a reassuring smile. “You look nice.”

  Kelsie shrugged. Trying to cheer her up, Ling had lent her the sparkliest silver dress she owned. She’d paired it with silver high-tops, saying they were going to have fun tonight. Kelsie was grateful for the clothes, but she didn’t feel sparkly. She just felt scared.

  She hefted the messenger bag. The cash was like a brick in there.

  “You gonna be okay with that?” Fig asked.

  “Anyone messes with me, I can always thump them with it. Thanks for coming through, Fig.”

  He shrugged. “I always pay my debts.”

  They headed back out to the club.

  The music tonight was down-tempo, chill-out tracks with a subliminal tribal beat. The crowd was smiling and loose, ready to be soothed into a kind of syncopated mellowness. They danced and shook it out like a big, cheerful animal.

  Kelsie let herself drift into their simple, cruisy optimism. Something she hadn’t felt all day.

  “There’s the smile I’ve been looking for.” Fig grinned at her.

  She linked an arm through his and leaned on his shoulder. Maybe it really would all be okay. Maybe her dad had a plan for the cash that would get him off the hook with everyone.

  But then something like a bucket of cold water hit Kelsie.

  She scanned the room for the source. Through the gentle rocking of the dancers came a different movement, something more determined. A group of six men pierced the dance floor like an arrowhead, a crowd within the crowd. She pulled the bag of money close. Was it the Bagrovs, here in the club?

  But the men weren’t headed her way. They were moving toward the door. And it was Craig marching at the front of the group, a fierce expression on his face.

  “Where’s he going?” Kelsie asked.

  Fig followed her gaze. “To do some damage. Someone spotted that kid from the bank video.”

  She spun toward Fig. “Axel? Where?”

  Fig shrugged. “Somebody who works at the Magnifique. Saw the guy in the penthouse.”

  “The penthouse?” Living it up while Kelsie couch-surfed her way into orphanhood.

  Craig’s gang was almost at the door, their angry intent like a swarm of bees rolling across the room.

  Axel was in for the biggest beating of his life.

  Which was fine with Kelsie, except that she had to find out what he knew about her dad and the bank robbery and the Bagrovs. She needed to know why he’d sent her life into this spiral.

  “Gotta go, Fig.” She gave his arm a squeeze and made a dash for the door, the heavy bag banging awkwardly on her hip.

  CHAPTER 42

  MOB

  SHE MADE IT TO THE Magnifique in record time.

  It helped that she knew all the alleyways in downtown Cambria. Plus she was sprinting, and Craig’s gang moved more like an army tank on legs.

  When she reached the Magnifique’s lobby, the size of it made her pause. She’d been to underground dance parties before, in abandoned factories and warehouses. This lobby was as vast and echoey as those, but gleaming with expense. She felt small and exposed in her little sparkly dress.

  She headed for the elevators, feeling the buzz from the crowd around her. They were mostly guests, travelers looking for fun in a new town. She felt her own anticipation ramp theirs up a notch and loop back on her. She had to get to Axel before Craig and his goons did.

  In the elevator, she hit the button marked PH.

  It only blinked. The elevator doors didn’t budge.

  “Come on,” she said.

  A man in a suit stepped into the elevator. He pulled out a plastic card with the swirly Magnifique logo on it and slotted it into the elevator controls. Then he pressed the fifth-floor button, which stayed lit.

  Of course. A hotel this fancy had real security.

  Gratefully, Kelsie pressed PH again, but again the button only flickered.

  “Gotta use your own card,” the guy said. “They’re programmed for each floor.”

  The door was already sliding shut, and Kelsie shot her arm out to catch it. The rubber bumpers bounced off her wrist.

  “Oh, right. My boyfriend has it.” She stepped out.

  As the door slid closed behind her, Kelsie scanned the lobby entrance. At least Craig and his gang weren’t here yet.

  It had been a while since she’d picked anyone’s pocket, not since she was twelve years old, but the old instincts clicked back in as she cased the lobby. A group was best, or someone in a hurry.

  And they had to be rich. Somebody who looked like they belonged on the penthouse floor.

  There was a large group at the concierge desk, arguing loudly with the guy behind it. As she closed in, Kelsie felt the undertow of their annoyance join forces with her own panic, redoubling both.

  “Where are we supposed to eat!” one of them shouted.

  The concierge stayed calm. “The whole city’s booked up with Fourth of July tourists. But we’ll find you something.”

  Kelsie bumped into the shouting man, got his wallet. She hit another of the group on the way past, fanning his coat pockets. Nothing.

  Behind a giant flower arrangement, she opened the wallet. There, slipped in among the credit cards, was the Magnifique logo. The guy was still yelling at the concierge, so she dropped his wallet into the flowers. Dickhead.

  But what were the chances he was staying on the top floor? She needed more keys.

  She scanned the crowd again, making a map in her head of pockets and bags, then twisted her connection with the tour group, sending her anxiety toward them. Their noise ramped, until everyone in the lobby was looking at them, distracted.

  She bumped a man in a linen jacket, fanned his pants pockets, and felt plastic. Lifted it while he apologized to her.

  Kelsie kept moving, weaving in and out, skimming close.

  She brushed against a young woman and emptied her jacket pockets with two fingers. Some cash, a credit card, a key card. Kelsie slipped the rest of it back into the woman’s other pocket on another pass. The woman never noticed a thing.

  Kelsie took the three stolen cards back to the elevator and swiped one across the reader, then another.

  PH only blinked.

  “Come on,” Kelsie muttered.

  She was down to her last card.

  Craig and his gang entered the lobby. Their black T-shirts seemed to swallow the light as they marched across the glossy marble floor.

  She swiped the last card across the reader and stabbed the PH button.

  It stayed stubbornly dark.

  CHAPTER 43

  FLICKER

  FLICKER WAS IN THE CONCIERGE’S eyes.

  His long fingers were scrolling a touch-pad screen, his gaze flitting across requests from customers arriving in the next few days. The hotel was filling up, thanks to the big Fourth of July display. Everyone wanted a room with a view of the old Parker-Hamilton Hotel, which was scheduled for demolition during the show.

  Every minute or so the concierge looked up, scanning the lobby in a discreet and professional way. Perfect for keeping watch, which Flicker had been doing for a few hours now. It was making her weird and spacey, spreading her awareness through the lobby for this long.

  Flicker saw herself in her wingback chair, her bright red dress easy to spot. But as she gave herself a smile, the concierge’s gaze slipped past her and came to a rest on a huge man strolling across the lo
bby floor.

  The concierge stared. It was hard not to. The guy was as wide as a door, all shoulders and thighs. He wore a shiny black T-shirt made from enough silk for a parachute. Five other big guys cruised across the lobby floor with him, a formation of battleships.

  A man in a Magnifique staff uniform came up and started talking to them, and the concierge’s eyes dropped back to his computer screen.

  Flicker sent her vision into the big guy’s eyes. She couldn’t hear anything from across the lobby, but it didn’t seem like a confrontation. The two were huddled close, the big guy’s eyes moving warily from side to side.

  The hotel staffer, a short man with a shaved head, held out his empty palm, and the big guy pushed a stack of twenties into it. In return, the staffer produced a hotel key card and slipped it into the breast pocket of the big guy’s shirt.

  This was getting interesting. Flicker unfolded her cane and stood.

  The big guy and his friends were headed straight for the elevators.

  But before he reached them, a woman—a girl, really, no older than Flicker—in a very sparkly dress appeared and blocked his path. She stood about five feet tall and had as much chance as a rabbit trying to stop a bulldozer, but the guy came to a halt. The girl started talking to him, a fierce expression on her face.

  Flicker was already closing in, and she caught their voices.

  “. . . cares about your stupid money?” the girl was saying. “My dad’s in jail because of him! I want to be there when you—”

  “Trust me, Kelsie,” he interrupted. “You don’t want to see what I’m about to . . .”

  Their voices faded as Flicker passed. She couldn’t stand there and eavesdrop, but this was way too interesting to ignore.

  And Kelsie? She’d heard that name recently.

  Right—Ethan’s little rant at the bank. The voice had said Kelsie to the robbers.

  Crap. This was about the bank video, and these people were here at the Magnifique, where Anon lived. It was all too much of a coincidence.

  Flicker reached for her new phone. She had to get Nate here.

  Not Nate—Glorious Leader. This was a mission: saving Anon’s and Scam’s lives.

  Flicker skipped her eyes around the room. The argument was attracting attention from all directions.

  The girl in the sparkly dress was in the big guy’s face, practically yelling at him. The other five looked embarrassed that their leader was taking shit from this pipsqueak. But she kept going, talking with her hands, thumping the guy’s chest, grabbing at his shirt. Something flashed in her hand as she pounded him—a hotel card key.

  Was she a guest here?

  “Dial Nate,” Flicker said to her phone.

  The big guy didn’t get mad, just stared at the girl until he finally brushed her aside.

  For a second Flicker thought the girl would go apeshit. But her anger seemed to switch off all at once. She watched them go, clutching her messenger bag, the hotel key still in her hand.

  Why the hell wasn’t Glorious Leader picking up?

  Flicker pushed her vision back into the big guy’s eyes. He led his men into an empty elevator, pulled the card key from his breast pocket, and slotted it into the reader. Then his gigantic thumb pushed the very top button on the controls, the one marked PH.

  “Shit,” Flicker said. The penthouse. Where else in the palace would the boy called Nothing live? “Come on. Answer!”

  The button lit for a moment, then went dark again. The big guy’s thumb pressed it once more.

  The phone went to voice mail, and Flicker’s words came out in a rush. “I’m downtown at the Hotel Magnifique. Anon lives here. And there’s this gang of . . . goons, or whatever, here to kick Scam’s ass. We need to warn them!”

  It wasn’t just Ethan in danger, she realized with a pulse of real fear. Anyone they found with him would be dead meat too.

  She turned and headed toward the reception desk, navigating by sound. Forget keeping Anon’s secrets—maybe she could convince hotel security to stop these guys, or to let her call the penthouse.

  She cast her vision back into the elevator. The big guy was still pressing the PH button. The number wouldn’t light, and the door didn’t close. He swiped the card again, but nothing seemed to work.

  Flicker slowed to a halt.

  Suddenly the big guy was storming out, his eyes searching the lobby, coming to rest on the hotel staffer who’d sold him the key. He headed that way.

  Flicker stood where she was, frozen for a moment. None of this made sense.

  She flashed her vision across a hundred eyeballs, searching for the girl in the sparkly dress. There she was, disappearing into another elevator. Flicker tried to find her eyeballs, but a moment later the girl was out of range, the elevator climbing away from the lobby crowd.

  Flicker’s ringtone for Glorious Leader—“Hail to the Chief”—echoed across the marble lobby.

  His voice was frantic. “Flick, I’m in my car! What’s happening?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” she said. “But it’s definitely happening now.”

  CHAPTER 44

  SCAM

  “I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SAY this,” Ethan muttered. “But I’m totally over Red Scepter III.”

  “You’re over losing, is what you mean.”

  Ethan opened his mouth for a witty comeback, but then he clamped it shut. The voice was in charge of comebacks, and it had been only a little over twenty-four hours since his promise to Thibault not to use the voice.

  “You suck” was the best he could think up on his own.

  A knock shook the door, and both of them jumped.

  “You order anything from room service?” Thibault asked.

  Ethan had tried once, but he’d forgotten the passwords. The knocking came again, hard and insistent, before he could admit this.

  “Does that sound like room service?” Ethan hissed. He was already on his feet and headed to his bedroom.

  This was probably because of that cleaning guy who’d seen him earlier. The one he hadn’t told Tee about. Crap. Hotel security must have figured out the room was occupied.

  But it was okay. Thibault would work his forgetting magic and the whole thing would blow over. No need to panic.

  Ethan stopped just inside the bedroom, out of view of the doorway. But he stayed where he could still see Thibault. The last thing he needed was to forget what was going on and wander back in.

  When Tee opened the door, his expression changed. “Um, hello?”

  “Where is he?” A girl’s voice, angry.

  She took a step forward, straight up into Thibault’s face. Ethan caught a glimpse of her before backing away. She wore a shiny silver dress with matching high-tops. A white messenger bag was strapped across her shoulder.

  Definitely not Magnifique staff.

  Tee was too freaked out to answer. The girl pushed past him and marched into the room. She looked really pissed.

  Ethan drew back another step, out of sight now. There were a lot of pissed-off girls in his past. Still, it was weird how he couldn’t place this one. Even weirder that she’d tracked him down in Anon’s secret lair.

  More like impossible.

  “It’s just me here,” Thibault was saying.

  “Just you, huh?” the girl said. “So why are there two sodas on the table? And two game controllers? Axel was here, wasn’t he?”

  “Axel?” came Thibault’s voice.

  “Axel,” Ethan whispered to himself. His knees went weak.

  The only time he’d ever heard that name was out of his own mouth, two nights ago on an ill-fated trip with a paranoid drug dealer in a beat-up Ford sedan.

  Which meant this girl was a friend of the Craig’s.

  “We don’t have time to screw around,” the girl said. “They’re right behind me.”

  They? Ethan wondered if hiding was such a good idea. If this girl had found him, who else was on the way?

  “Listen, I don’t know what you’re . . .
” Thibault began. His words faded as Ethan stepped out of the bedroom.

  “Who’s right behind you?” Ethan said.

  Now that he had a better look at the girl, she looked familiar. She had high cheekbones and soft, blond hair that curled to her shoulders. Her green eyes lit as she stared back at him.

  “It’s you,” she said. “From the video.”

  “It’s you,” he said. “From the diner.”

  She was still looking at him. Suddenly all he wanted was for her to keep looking at him. He let the words bubble into his throat. “I’m the one you want. I can help fix this.”

  Whatever that meant. But at least the voice had stunned the girl for a moment. Her arms wrapped around her shoulders. “You can?”

  “I can help your father,” the voice said. “I know how to make amends with the Bagrovs.”

  The girl’s gaze softened, filling with a hope that went straight through Ethan’s skin. At the moment he didn’t care who the Bagrovs were. He just wanted to help her.

  “Okay. But we have to go,” she said. “Craig’s right behind me.”

  “Don’t worry—” the voice began, but a surge of panic sent Ethan’s own words crashing into his mouth. “Wait. The Craig’s behind you?”

  “Cambria’s angriest dude,” she confirmed. The voice’s spell was broken. She marched over to where he stood. “We have to get out of here. Right now.”

  She grabbed hold of his elbow and began dragging him toward the door. Ethan went along with it. It wasn’t every day a really hot girl in a sparkly dress showed up to rescue you. And if the Craig really was coming, it was time to move.

  But then Thibault stepped in front of them, and the girl came to a startled halt.

  “Who are you?” She’d already forgotten him.

  Ethan would’ve killed for a power like Thibault’s right then. Anything so the Craig would forget he’d ever existed.

  “How did you find us?” Thibault asked. “How did you get up here?”

  “No time for that, Tee,” Ethan said. “Grab your stuff!”

  Thibault didn’t move. “My stuff?”

  Ethan ran to the couch and pulled on his sneakers. “Craig is the guy I stole that money from. We need to get out of here before he redecorates this room with our insides.”