Fearless Page 5

  I blush fiercely. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “What? It’s the truth.”

  “I’m ignoring it.”

  “I’m not,” he says heartily.

  I laugh, shaking my head and refusing to look at him. My smile lingers when he takes my hand.

  We cruise down the street looking for a shop, but it seems like we’re deep in either residential or business buildings because we’re only finding small corner stores or vendors selling groceries. When we pass a trash can, I throw Nick’s shirt inside, wiping my wet hands on the leg of my jeans.

  Nick frowns at me. “You could have left it.”

  “They got Al Capone on tax evasion,” I remind him.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Are the cops still with us?”

  He takes my hand again. “Haven’t seen them.”

  “Me either. We still have to get you a shirt though.”

  “I know. And maybe something besides these shorts I was sleeping in. Which reminds me—we have to figure out where we’re going to sleep too.”

  “What’s the exchange rate on the Japanese Yen?”

  Nick pinches his brow. “I have no idea.”

  “Well, whatever it is we’re going to pay way above it using U.S. currency here. We’ll probably have to sell our dollars to someone. Preferably someone like a farmer selling in a market. They’ll be easier to negotiate with.”

  “You know a lot about this.”

  I shrug. “Not my first rodeo. Normally I’d use my debit card…”

  “But we can’t leave an electronic footprint.”

  “So selling some dollars will have to work. Or we’ll have to find a shady motel that will gladly rent us a room but make us pay out the nose for it.”

  “Through the nose,” he corrects absently.

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have a better idea. Better than a shady hotel.”

  “Campbell?” I guess.

  Nick nods thoughtfully, scanning the streets. “He’s been prepping for this exact thing his whole life. If anyone is knowledgeable about government science experiments gone wrong and hiding from a Big Brother-type villain, it’s that conspiracy theory, comic-loving nut job. I need to use him.”

  “It sounds horrible when you put it like that.”

  “It is what it is. We need to talk strategy, and he’s our best source. We have to ask him.” He suddenly tucks me into a dark corner away from the crowds. “Do you have a couple twenties?”

  I fish two out of my pocket, careful not to flash the entire wad of cash I’m carrying. The money is spread out between all four pockets of my jeans for that very reason. “Yeah, of course.”

  Nick takes it and swiftly tucks it in his pocket. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  I watch nervously as he takes off across the busy street. He doesn’t wait for a light. He dodges in and out of cars so deftly not a single horn is honked at him. He’s quick—impossibly quick—and it’s not long before I lose sight of him on the other side of the street. People pass me by on their way to who knows where, and I wonder what time it is. I don’t even know what time it was on that island in the Behring Sea, I didn’t catch the time in Nebraska, and I really have no clue what time it would be here in Japan. It’s not unusual for me to be turned around and disoriented like this. I get it a lot, but it doesn’t mean I like it.

  I lean hard against the wall, dropping my head back lazily. The dark sky combined with the fading effects of the Slip are making me drowsy. There’s a rhythm to the traffic and the noise that’s almost comforting. Soothing, like rain. My lean on the wall gets heavier and I wonder how mad Nick would be if he came back and found me sleeping on the dirty ground near this dark alley.

  I don’t realize I’ve closed my eyes until Nick takes my arm, startling me awake.

  His face is in shadows from the streetlights behind him, but I can tell he’s frowning. When he talks, his voice is laced with concern. “Were you sleeping?”

  I shake my head, trying to wake myself up. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you tired again?”

  “Maybe.”

  I stand and stumble against him, my hands meeting soft cotton. He has a shirt on again—one with the Captain America shield on it.

  “Well, that’s fitting.”

  He glances down at the logo with a wry grin. “I saw a guy wearing it and a pair of Beats headphones. I took a shot that he spoke a little English.”

  “Enough for you to steal his shirt? Wait, how did you see his headphones brand from across the street?”

  “I bought it, not stole it, and I have good eyesight. Probably inhumanly good…”

  I sigh. “You got all the good tricks.”

  “Yours would be just as good if you let it.”

  “You want a shot at it? It’s all yours.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Nick replies, oversimplifying the massive issue that has plagued my entire existence. “For now we’re going to an internet café around the corner. The guy said there was one nearby. And here,” he says, handing me an opaque white plastic bag. “I found you this for the files.”

  “And the baby too?”

  “No,” he answers firmly. “The baby stays close. You might have to ditch the bag, but we need the baby.”

  I walk beside him, but instead of holding his hand I’m leaning heavily on his arm, my body feeling weirdly loose, like Jell-O. He doesn’t complain, though. In fact, he doesn’t say a word about it.

  “What are we doing at the internet café?”

  “Activating Campbell.”

  I don’t know what that means and I don’t ask. I assume it means we’re asking him for help, so I let it lie and I walk as straight as I can. Ten minutes ago Nick was hovered over a gutter looking like a drunk at the end of a bad night. Now I’m stumbling down the road looking like a girl about to make a rash decision. At least he has a shirt on now. I can retain some of my pride.

  The internet joint is bright white and surprisingly loud for something labeled ‘café,’ but the bonus is that there are instructions in English. Nick pays to play with some Yen he bought off the guy along with his shirt, and we’re in business. Only problem is—

  “How do we contact him?” I ask once we’re seated. “We can’t e-mail him. They’ll be watching both of our accounts.”

  Nick sits back in his seat, staring at the screen and mindlessly ripping a piece of scratch paper into strips. “Do we know that for sure?”

  “They’re not the government but they’re obviously connected, and a decent hacker could get into our e-mails. Do you want to risk it?”

  “Maybe. Even if they’re watching our accounts, how fast could they really mobilize their people? Like you said, they’re not the government. They don’t have bodies everywhere.”

  “Liam can Slip.”

  “But has he been to Tokyo?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm,” Nick hums, staring into the distance. “There are others that can do other things.”

  “Which is why we got the files,” I remind him, holding up my plastic bag.

  He glances at it without interest. “No, I mean I saw someone about to use their abilities. Someone connected to Evans.”

  I nearly drop the bag. “What? When?”

  “At your apartment. It was one of the people who broke in. You were already going under, you didn’t see it, but he did something with his hands. I think he has a heat ability. Maybe fire. He was gearing up but he didn’t use it.”

  “Why didn’t he? Did you shoot him?”

  He chuckles. “No, I didn’t shoot him. I’m not trigger-happy, Alex. Someone showed up. Someone who Slipped there.”

  “Liam.”

  “That’s what I thought, but I never saw the person. I don’t know for sure.”

  I shake my head with certainty. “No one else can do what Liam and I can do. Doctor Evans wouldn’t care so much about me if they could.”


  “You’re probably right.”

  He says it but I don’t know that he believes it. I don’t care. I know I’m right and there’s no use fighting over it. What we need to worry about now is getting somewhere safe to plan our next move, which apparently means contacting Campbell.

  “I could Skype him,” Nick suggests.

  “You’d have to use your account to do it. They could track it as easily as an e-mail. Open a new account using a fake e-mail?”

  “If they’ve been watching us as much as they say, they know I’m close with him. They might be watching his accounts, too, which means none of this matters. They’ll know we’ve contacted him even if I e-mail him using the Pope’s address.”

  “Vatican777@holyghost.com?”

  “It’d be .org.”

  “What are we going to do?” I insist, feeling too tired to keep up with him.

  Nick sits forward, tossing the surprisingly even shreds of paper into a pile on the table. “We’re going to Skype him. Screw it. It’s the most direct way to contact him, and no matter what we do we’re going to set off alarms. May as well do it as fast as possible.”

  “Do I need to be ready to run?”

  He glances over at me where I’m sagging in my seat. His face tightens. “Is that an option?”

  “I can manage. But if I get caught—”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he interrupts, abruptly turning to the computer. “Don’t even start with that.”

  “Nick—”

  “Alex, even if it wasn’t my job, it’s you.” He looks at me again, his bright green eyes burning into mine with that insane intensity that is everything inside him. “You’re the last person I’d ever leave behind.”

  “Okay,” I agree, but before he can look away again I take his hand firmly in mine. “Then don’t ever ask me to do it either. Promise.”

  His jaw clenches briefly. I wait, my hand still holding his. Finally he nods curtly once in agreement. “I promise.”

  “Good. Now sound the alarm.”

  He inputs the information from memory and I wait breathlessly as the machine dials Campbell’s computer. Nick looks completely comfortable. On the alert, sure, but calm as anything. There’s nothing about his expression that says he’s on the run from a shadow organization, while I’m pretty sure it’s written clear as anything across my face. Maybe even in the way I’ve crossed my legs.

  I self-consciously uncross them.

  Suddenly the ringing stops.

  “What’s up, douchebag?” Campbell exclaims. His face fills the screen and I’m surprised. I think I expected the palest, nerdiest of nerds, but what I see is a wiry but good-looking guy with brilliant blue eyes and a cunning smile. “Where the hell are you?”

  “You’re not gonna believe me,” Nick warns.

  “If it’s not Kandahar, then no. I don’t believe you.”

  “Tokyo.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Campbell repeats evenly. “Seriously, what’s with all the Asians? Are you getting sushi? Need help figuring out what to order?”

  Nick rolls his shoulders reflexively, glancing around to see if anyone is listening. So far we’re okay. “I’m in Tokyo. I’m here with Alex.”

  “The fake chick you’re ‘dating’ to make Walters happy?”

  I lean in to put my face in front of the camera, waving weakly. “Hi, Campbell.”

  His jaw drops for a long, silent second, then he whoops a huge laugh.

  “Holy shit, she’s real and she’s stacked!”

  Wow, today is All About My Boobs Day. Not loving it.

  “Dude,” Nick warns, his voice dark.

  Campbell continues to laugh. “Calm down, man. Hey, are you serious? You’re here in Japan?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “That’s awesome. Did you get leave? What is this?”

  “It’s not leave.”

  The laughter dies. It’s so instant it’s freaky. I watch Campbell’s face fall serious in degrees through the pixels on the screen. His eyes harden, his mouth becoming a strict line.

  “What have you done?”

  Nick glances at me for a split second, and in that moment I feel all of it—all of the guilt and self-loathing for this thing I’ve done to him. I couldn’t control it but I still did it. It’s still my fault. All of it.

  “Something that can’t be undone.”

  Campbell curses loudly, looking away in frustration. When he looks back, his eyes are only for me. They’re full of anger and accusation. “You ditched for a woman,” he spits.

  Nick sighs. “There’s more to it than that. A lot more. Can we meet up?”

  “Not on base we can’t.”

  “No joke. Can you get away? Come to the city to meet us?”

  He finally takes his eyes off me to look coolly at Nick. “Are you asking me to make a legit daytrip, or is this a call to run away with the circus?”

  “Daytrip. That’s all. I just need to talk to you.”

  Campbell nods slowly. “All right, man. I can be in the city in a couple hours.”

  Nick gives Campbell the address of the internet café and they make a plan to meet in the area. Nothing is specific, just to be safe, though Campbell is very specific about the fact that we’ll be paying for his travel. I hope he takes Visa ’cause our cash is limited.

  “Well,” I say brightly as we step outside, “he hates me.”

  “Yeah,” Nick agrees mildly.

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why would it?”

  “Because he’s your friend. Probably your best friend.”

  He shrugs. “He loves Daredevil. I hate it. Somehow we make it through.”

  He glances quickly up and down the street, his eyes sharply taking in the signs that mean nothing to me. He checked a map of the city with the last of our purchased bandwidth. I hope it stuck with him, because I don’t remember any of it.

  I look up at the signs too, wondering why I bother. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “Six blocks up, four over. There’s a bunch of hotels there.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait here for Campbell?”

  “No,” he answers, pulling me along. “We shouldn’t be anywhere near here if we don’t have to be. If someone is watching, this is the one place they know for sure we’ve been and will be in the future. We have to limit our exposure to this area.”

  “What about when we meet Campbell here? Won’t that be dangerous?”

  “We aren’t meeting him here. I’ll catch him at the train station. We’re never coming back here again.”

  “We’ll meet him at the station.”

  He groans deeply. “You’re going to fight me on everything, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. We have to stick together.”

  “I’ll do better without you when I go to get him, and you need to sleep.”

  I shiver slightly, feeling suddenly cold. “If I sleep I might Slip.”

  “Which wouldn’t be a bad thing. If you Slip somewhere random then they can’t find you.”

  “Yeah, but neither can you.”

  “Yes, I can.” He nudges my shoulder with his, the gesture surprisingly playful. “Whether I want to or not.”

  I can’t help but grin. “You’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  “You’re smug, too.”

  He smiles down at me. “Yes. I am definitely that.”

  “You’ll take the baby with you when you go?”

  His face falls, instantly serious. “You don’t want me to leave it with you?”

  “I’ve never used one before. I wouldn’t even know what to do with it. It’s better if it goes with you. I think you should also take these.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out two smooth stones, both identical to the stone that created our bird, except for their color. While that stone was black, these are white and gray. I drop them gently into Nick’s waiting hand.

  For some reason I’m a little relieved to se
e the gray one go.

  Nick’s eyes light up, excited and vibrant. “Are these what I think they are?”

  “Yeah. They’re the other two stones you made for me in the dream. I grabbed them while I was getting the money. Thought they’d come in handy.”

  Nick rolls the rocks around deftly in his palm, his eyes intent on the shine they make against his matte skin. I know what he’s doing, what he’s thinking: he’s imagining all of the things he could do with these rocks. They’re the embodiment of possibility. I watch as they rotate in his hand, around and around and around. I wonder how he’s managing such a perfect, smooth rhythm.

  I open my mouth to ask him, but my throat closes off in surprise.

  The rocks are moving, but Nick’s hand is not.

  Chapter Five

  Nick

  “I can’t wait to hear this,” Campbell says the second he steps off the train.

  He’s not surprised to find me waiting for him. I probably shouldn’t have waited right at the train station, but I wasn’t sure which route he’d take to the café so I had to take a chance. It seemed like less of a chance than actually showing up at the café.

  “Not here,” I tell him. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Hotel.”

  “That’s presumptuous,” he says dryly. “At least buy a girl dinner first.”

  “It’s not a presumption on a sure thing.”

  Campbell doesn’t respond. He walks beside me without a word, but I can hear the wheels turning. They whirl and whirl and whirl until he can’t contain himself and his opinions any longer.

  “You’re AWOL,” he says.

  I nod curtly. “Yep.”

  “Over a woman.”

  “I told you, it’s more than that.”

  “You mean she’s more than that.”

  “No, I mean the situation is more than that.”

  “Is it true love, Nick? A Disney fairytale in the making? I can’t wait for the movie trailer. It’ll be beautiful. You can watch it from prison. I’ll smuggle a shiv to you in your popcorn.” He shakes his head in the first show of frustration I’ve seen since he told me—in no uncertain or inoffensive terms—that he does not want a girlfriend. “Is this what knowing Walters has done to you?”