by Tracey Ward
“You’re not. Campbell’s not.”
“I am not staying behind with Campbell.”
“You’re not going in with me.”
“Yes, I am!”
“To do what exactly?” he insists. “You can’t control yourself yet, you’re not trained in combat, you can’t fire a gun.”
“Then teach me to fight.”
“To gain any real, useable skill, you’d need months of training. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Teach me to shoot.”
“Alex, there’s no time,” he repeats. “You need to focus on the Slipping. You gotta ditch the fear of doing it.”
I step away, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I can do it! You saw me do it.”
“Then do it again.”
I freeze on the spot. “What?”
“Do it again. Right now. Show me you’re not afraid of it.”
I stare at his handsome, blank face, and I want to cry. Or scream. Maybe hit him? I don’t know. A flood of emotions runs through me at his challenge, all of them warring for a place in my veins and on my face—anger, frustration, pride.
Humiliation.
He’s so powerful. So strong and so… so fearless. He can do anything. He’s been aware of his abilities for a year and he can laugh in the face of reality. Meanwhile I’ve known about mine almost my entire life and I get run around the globe by it like a balloon in the wind.
And there he stands, telling me to do it when he knows I won’t. Hell, I didn’t know until this moment that I wouldn’t do it. Not for sure. I was holding out hope that I could muster up the courage if only I got the chance to try, but here’s that chance and I’m freezing. Panicking. Staring pink-cheeked embarrassed into the face of defeat.
“Hey, you guys all set?” Brody asks cautiously, showing up out of nowhere. He looks slowly between Nick and I, unsure what’s happening.
It can’t look good. My face is tight, freaked out. His is calm and resigned. He’s sure he’s right. I’m pumping out irritation and angst while he’s standing there bathed in ice water, exuding cool calm.
And energy. Always this air of infinite power and…
I turn quickly to Campbell, immediately diving my hands into his pockets.
“Whoa! Easy, SB. Your boy is right there,” he reminds me, throwing his hands up in innocence.
I find his wallet, pull out his debit card, and toss the square of leather back at him. “What’s your PIN?”
He takes his time sliding his wallet home, watching me blandly. “Who said I was chipping in?”
I reach out and twist his nipple through his T-shirt.
He cries out in surprise and pain, clutching his chest. “Did you just titty-twist me?!”
“PIN!”
“The Flash’s birthday!” he shouts back.
I roll my eyes. “No sane person knows what that is.”
“March Nineteenth. Oh-three-one-nine.”
I turn my back on him. “Nick, we’re out.”
His perfect calm breaks, his brow pinching in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m about to prove you wrong, you smug son of a bitch.”
I kiss him hard. I put my hands against the sides of his face, connecting as much of my skin to his as I can, and I smile to myself when his arms wrap around me. He’s confused and he doesn’t do PDAs, but he’s still a guy. I’ve caught him off guard or in the right mood because he’s not running from this—which is good, because it’s exactly what I need. I reach behind me, grab his hands, and slide them up under the back of my shirt until they’re splayed out over my skin.
He pulls me in close but I need more. I need a jump. A jolt.
I grip his upper arms, gliding my hands up under the short sleeves of his shirt until I’m holding onto the hot skin of his shoulders underneath, then I open my mouth. I run my tongue lightly along his lips, feel his fingertips dig into my back, feel him groan slightly against my mouth.
I feel it all the way into my toes.
And there it is: The vibration. The hum. The electricity in my veins that lights the way. The lightning that sets the forest on fire.
The power that Slips us through the ether.
Chapter Fifteen
Nick
I’m worried I’ll puke in her mouth.
I lean over to heave on the sidewalk just as my lunch leaves me, and I’m so grateful I got away from her before it happened. There’s no apologizing for that. Retching in someone’s mouth is something that stays with you forever. Incurable. Unforgiveable. Like herpes or Del Taco.
“Boom!” Alex shouts triumphantly. “Welcome to Puerto Rico, baby! Who’s afraid to use their ability now?!”
I stand up slowly, looking around in dumbfounded amazement.
We’re standing on an old, brick-paved street, narrow and brightly colored on either side. The buildings are all stucco, with graceful arched doorways and gleaming glass windows from nearly floor to ceiling. I can hear music somewhere a couple streets over. It’s casual but festive—light and pleasant, with a Hispanic flare. All of it comes together to prove two major points: One, we actually made it to Puerto Rico and two, we’re deep in tourist country.
ATM country.
“Wow,” I murmur, shocked. “You did it. You nailed it.”
“Yeah, I did!”
“How did you do it? How did you get so accurate?”
She hesitates before answering me, her balloon deflating a little. “Okay, in fairness, we did it.”
“We did it?” I repeat.
“Kinda, yeah. I used you. Like licking a battery.”
“I don’t know that term. Is that slang for a sex act?”
“No! What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying I didn’t do it entirely on my own,” she admits grudgingly. “I used you to get a boost, same way I did in Japan.”
I shift my eyes over the buildings around us, the ocean roaring in the distance. I just can’t get over it. She’s dead-on. “You were way more accurate this time.”
“I had way more boost this time.”
“The kiss?”
“The kiss, the skin… the groan.”
My eyes find hers, a knowing smile on my face. “Really?”
She puts her hand up in warning. “Pump the brakes, Casanova.”
“What? I’m only thinking of how much more accurate you could be.”
“Nope.”
“Okay, all right. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Can’t I?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Why’d you jump the gun?”
“What do you mean?”
“We weren’t supposed to Slip here until we bought phones. What made you decide to do it?’
“Because you pissed me off,” she answers bluntly. “You called me out, made me feel small and powerless, and I wanted to prove you wrong. I think… I think I wanted to prove me wrong too.”
She looks away briefly. Her eyes are instantly back on mine, but the flutter, the flinch, is something I recognize. She’s disappointed in herself. She’s still afraid.
“You were terrified to do it again,” I say gently.
She nods her head, pinching her lips together in a thin line. “I wanted to—or at least I thought I wanted to. But then you told me to go ahead and do it and it got so real and I got so freaking scared. I knew I couldn’t do it alone. It made me really angry so I kind of attacked you. Sorry.”
I step forward, pressing my lips briefly to her forehead. “What you did back there is not something you ever need to be sorry for. You can lick my battery any time.”
“Gross,” she laughs.
“You said it first. I don’t know what you want from me.”
She shocks me for the second time in as many minutes when she kisses me. It’s brief, but it’s got to be disgusting.
“Whoa,” I breathe when she pulls away.
“Yeah, I regr
etted it the second I did it,” she groans, scowling as she swipes her arm over her mouth.
“I could use a Sprite.”
“I could use a time machine.”
What we get is cold hard cash.
We’re only able to pull eight hundred dollars from each of the three accounts, which doesn’t leave us with as much cash as we’d like. Four people and a hungry truck pulling on a fund only twenty-four hundred dollars strong isn’t going to last very long.
“How long do you think?” Alex asks, stuffing twenties in her pockets.
We need to get her a bag or a purse or something. Probably a backpack for me and Campbell too. Brody had the sense to grab his Bug-Out Bag when we were running out of the house the other night, so he’s square.
“Four people eating three meals a day and a truck filling up just as often? I’d say if we keep moving like we are now, we’ll run out in less than two weeks.”
“Okay, so we’ll pull money out again. I have plenty in my account.”
I read over the statement receipts we printed for Campbell and Brody. “Yeah. These guys do too. But once Evans knows we’re using the cards and you’re Slipping us away immediately after, they might shut us down.”
“You think they’ll take all of our money?”
“It’s what I’d do. It’ll hamstring us. Make us desperate and stupid.”
Alex looks up and down the street nervously. “So what do you want to do?”
We’ve been here too long already. Alex’s card was the last one we used, but I doubt it matters. They’re watching all of us. We have no idea where their base of operation is, where Liam is, where he’s been and where he could possibly go. If we want to avoid another run-in with these people we need to leave right now.
But I’m not interested in running away, and there’s one face in that crowd I wouldn’t mind seeing again.
“Let’s go to a couple more ATMs,” I tell her. “We’ve hit the ATM’s withdrawal limit, but not the limits on the accounts.”
“Isn’t that risky?”
“This is all risky.”
“No, I mean extra risky. We’ve been here for quite a while. The boys will probably start driving again soon and we’ll never find them.”
I lead her up the street, heading toward the music. “Campbell will wait, I promise you that.”
“Brody might not.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me,” she protests. “What’s going on with you? Why aren’t you telling me to get us out of here?”
We turn onto the next street, the music, sights, and scents of a long line of street vendors slamming into us like a wall.
“Because we need more cash.”
“What else do we need?” she asks suspiciously.
I weave us in and out of vendor stalls, brightly colored hats, skirts, shirts, and bags dangling from every hook and corner to be found. “Bags for supplies. Souvenirs for the guys. What do you think of a painted conch shell for Campbell? I think he’d hate it, so we definitely have to get it.”
“Nick.”
I stop, turning to face her. She’s halted in the middle of the street, forcing people to weave around her, parting like river water around a stone.
“All right,” I concede. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Who?”
“Liam.”
She looks like she nearly chokes. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“Why do you want to wait around for him? So you can put a gun to his face again? Because I could be into that.”
“I want to talk to him. No guns. No threats. Just talk.”
She closes the meager distance between us, lowering her voice. “He won’t help you any more than he helped me.”
“I think because you’re mad at him, you underestimate how much he really helped you.”
“I think you underestimate how much of a chode he is,” she replies hotly.
“I think Brody would disagree with you there.”
“Brody was friends with a kid who probably worried more about boners than brain trauma. Times have changed and so has Liam.”
I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to waver. “He’s still the only one we know with real answers. I need to talk to him.”
She breathes out hot and hard through her nose, looking away. I know it annoys her but it doesn’t matter. This is how I want to do this. With her able to tap into my strength to Slip, it’s the best time to try and get face to face with Liam. If people from the clinic show up and there’s no Liam, we’ll bolt.
“Fine,” she eventually agrees, her tone tight and clipped hard around the edges. “We’ll wait for Liam, but remember we might not get him. We might get James or someone worse instead.”
“I’m not worried.”
“No,” she mutters, leading us forward into the maze of stalls. “Of course you’re not.”
∞
Liam is like the police—never around when you need them.
We wait for the better part of an hour. Alex and I pull money from three different ATMs, until we’re finally forced to buy bags to stash the cash in and the accounts tap out, denying us any more money. Even after that, I convince her to wait longer. We give it another twenty minutes of sitting by the ocean watching the waves roll in and out, but still no one shows up.
Not a single mad scientist. No fellow test tubes to be seen.
It’s a letdown and it’s all-out infuriating, because it means we have to go forward with the hunt for Fry and Beck. I’m not looking forward to that. I feel like it’s a waste of time, but I’m sick of saying it and I know she’s sick of hearing it, so I don’t bother.
“We better head back,” I finally tell her.
“Campbell is gonna be maaaaad,” she sings.
“Why would he be mad?”
“We Slipped without him. You’ve been gone for a really long time. He likes to be indignant.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“All right,” she grunts, standing up. She dusts the sand off her butt before offering me her hand. “Let’s do this.”
I stand, taking her hand loosely in mine. “You know where we’re going?”
“Oregon?”
“That’s specific.”
She reaches for my other hand. “You’ll help me get specific.”
“What if I didn’t?” I ask, pulling my hand out of reach. “What if I wasn’t here to help?”
“Then I’d be trapped in Puerto Rico, which is starting to feel like what’s happening. What are we waiting on now? Do you want to wait to see if Elvis shows up?”
“I want to see if you can Slip without my help.”
“Spoiler alert: I can’t. Give me your hand.”
“No.”
“Nick,” she sighs, exasperated. “I want to get out of here. Can’t we just go?”
“If you can get us out, then yeah. We can.”
She eyes me hard for a long, cold moment. “Do you remember when I said you weren’t an ass to me anymore?”
“Yeah.”
“I was wrong.”
I smile despite the dig. “Try one time. That’s all I ask.”
“Fine,” she relents. “Can I have your other hand? I want to make sure if it happens I don’t leave you behind. Or take only the hand I’m holding with me.”
My smile dips deep into a frown. “Could that happen?”
“You’re really going to ask me that?”
I shake my head. I remember this dance. “You don’t know the answer.”
“No more than I knew the answer to the dying in the dream versus dying in real life question.”
“I’m still waiting for an answer on that, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she drones, shaking her hands impatiently in wait of mine.
I reluctantly puts my palms against hers. They’re soft and dry.
She squeezes my hands reassuringly. “I’ll be gentle.”
“How?”
&nb
sp; “I don’t know, but I’ll try. Now think happy thoughts. Picture the truck. Brody. Campbell.”
I close my eyes. “Got it.”
“All right, I’m going to do it. Are you ready?”
“Ready.”
I wait patiently for her to try to Slip. I do it silently and I do it without judgment, but I also do it without much hope. It’s not that I don’t have faith in her and her abilities, because I do. I’m more of an advocate for her power than she is, but that’s the problem: she has no faith in herself. She’s trying, but thanks to years of instability it’s a forgone conclusion in her mind that she shouldn’t do it. I tried tricking her into Slipping by making her desperate—didn’t work. I tried encouraging her, telling her she could do it if she only tried—didn’t work. Now she’s using me to kick-start her movement, which essentially makes me the new serum. I’m a new crutch for her to lean on, to hide behind, and she’ll never have to worry about whether nor not she’ll make a mistake and Slip into the void because she knows I’ll always be there.
It’s a bad system. One that can’t go on. She’s better than that.
What I do now, it’s sketchy. It’s as close to a lie as I’ve ever been with her and I hate it, but I do it. I do it for her.
After ten full minutes of uneventful effort, I give her a nudge.
It’s a small one. One she doesn’t even notice. I could give her so much more. I could course so much energy through our connected hands that she could Slip us to the moon or the Mesopotamian Era, but I don’t. I give her just enough to strike the match. Just enough to light the fire then she’s on her own.
She runs with it.
I have half a second to be proud. Just one sheer, blissful moment of knowing she’s making it happen almost entirely on her own before my gut wrenches in my body and I feel like the world has run off its axis and is hurtling head over tail into the infinite reaches of space.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex
When I reach for it, it’s there. It’s in my blood the second I go looking for it, and I wonder briefly if he has anything to do with it—if he’s helping me again or if he’s doing it on accident—but it doesn’t matter. I find it easily this time. Or I guess it finds me. As though it’s waiting for me. As though it was always there, like white noise I’d been ignoring my entire life until someone turned up the volume for me. Now I can hear it loud and clear, and while my accuracy may be flawed and Nick might be behind the scenes at Master Control, it’s still there. I’m still consciously aware of it for the first time in my life, and I want to wrap my brain and body around it until I can either smother it from my soul or make it sorry it ever messed with my mind in the first place. I resent my ability the way a host resents a parasite, but I want to turn it all around. I’m flipping the switch, changing my fate, and whether Nick is helping me now or not, I promise myself I’ll be solely in charge of this thing before we find Beck.