Zeroes by Scott Westerfeld & Margo Lanagan & Deborah Biancotti

Author:Scott Westerfeld & Margo Lanagan & Deborah Biancotti [Westerfeld, Scott & Lanagan, Margo & Biancotti, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Young Adult, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781481443364
Google: nrqZBgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1481443364
Barnesnoble: 1481443364
Goodreads: 24885636
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2015-09-23T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 45

ANONYMOUS

DAMN IT, NO SHOES? AGAIN?

But “run like hell” didn’t leave room for argument. Especially when Ethan’s beast voice said it. So Thibault had run.

At least this time he wasn’t in a bathrobe.

He took the stairs two at a time, the concrete cold under his bare feet. The others were already halfway down the first flight. The pillowcase bounced like a Santa sack on Ethan’s shoulder, the minibar bottles clinking.

The girl’s high-tops echoed in the stairwell. Swinging Ethan around the turns, she was making their descent into a kind of dance. She’d forgotten Thibault was following, the bright lines of her awareness focused on the stairs and Ethan.

But Thibault wasn’t letting her out of his sight. He didn’t trust her. She’d already whacked Ethan with her messenger bag—what would she do when she really got to know him? And where was she taking them, anyway?

Thibault caught up on the next landing and grabbed her sparkly shoulder. “Kelsie—”

She cried out and spun from his grip. She started to swing her bag, but then her memory registered him.

“I can get us out of the building,” Thibault said while he had her. “But where then?”

“Ivy Street.” She pulled Ethan onward.

Thibault stayed close, grabbing a few wisps of her focus. “Ivy Street?”

She slingshotted Ethan around the next landing, “We can disappear in the crowds. I know places to hide there.”

“Crowds are a bad idea. Everyone in town knows Ethan’s face—and half of them want to punch it!”

But she’d gone from him already, her connection as fleeting as the cold shimmers the stairwell lights sent over her dress.

Ethan looked up at him, still bonded by their time together.

“Ivy Street, Ethan?” Thibault shouted. “Cops? More of Craig’s buddies?”

Ethan tried to slow, but Kelsie wouldn’t let him.

And Ethan didn’t want to resist her. Thibault had felt it the second Kelsie stepped through the door: Ethan’s sharp, crackling interest. Man, look at that attention he was throwing after her—a big fat cable of electric iridescence. An instant crush.

Figured. Even after almost two days together, Thibault was nothing compared to a cute girl in a sparkly dress.

He sped up, grabbed hold of the stair rail, and swung around another landing. Gaining on Kelsie, he caught her bag strap.

“Kelsie, listen. Your dad robbed a bank! Why the hell should we trust you?”

She flung him an exasperated look and pulled away. “I want to keep Axel alive. Or whatever his name is—”

“Ethan.” Ethan spoke up, like this was a school dance.

Thibault kept hold, scrabbling for the threads of her attention. “Why do you care?”

“We’ve got things to discuss. Like why he set my dad up with a bunch of Russian mobsters.”

Russian mobsters? What the—

Kelsie jumped four steps to the next landing. Ethan happily followed suit.

“Just shut up and run, okay?” she called back at them both.

Thibault started sliding down the handrails now, from landing to landing. Only the finest filament of awareness floated back over Ethan’s shoulder. He was too busy following Little Miss Sparkly into whatever trap was waiting. So much for all their heartfelt confessions.

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