Never Fade (20 page)

Chubs’s hand was steady as he took my chin in his hand, turning it to and fro, inspecting the cuts and bruises from the night before with a disapproving look. The others watched from behind the closed window, Jude’s face so close it was almost pressed up against the glass.

“It might be better if you pretend to pass out,” he said.

The suggestion came just in time. As I hit the ground, I saw the flash of black as the PSFs rounded the corner.

Four. Vida had been right. The brown-haired woman was the tallest of the group, standing several inches above the men. One was an older guy, his hair puffing out in an ashy blond ring around his head. The other two were younger and looked enough alike to be brothers. All armed with standard-issue rifles, handcuffs, the works.

“Can I help you?” Chubs’s face was set in stone.

The soldiers didn’t know what to make of us, but they also didn’t lower their weapons. I was starting to put it together, though, long before Chubs began to speak again.

“What, so you’re here to swipe my score out from under my nose? Trying to weasel out of having to pay me?”

The older soldier cocked a beetled brow. “You’re a skip tracer?”

My thoughts exactly.
If that was the ruse we were running with, we were in more trouble than I thought. On a good day, Chubs was about as threatening as a potted cactus.

“Here!” He reached into the leather pouch on his belt and thrust something at the PSF. It looked like a small booklet, about the size of a passport.

The old man stepped forward but turned to look back at the woman. “Take a walk around the perimeter. Make sure she was traveling alone.”

Chubs waved the booklet again as the three others took their walk. The old man sighed, glancing back and forth between Chubs’s face and whatever was written there.

“All right, Mr. Lister,” he said, passing it back to him. “Have you run this one through the database?”

“She’s not in it,” Chubs said. “She’s probably been coasting for quite some time. There aren’t any records of her.”

“Did you test her?” he asked. “If she’s Blue or Yellow, you’ll need—”

“She’s a Green,” Chubs interrupted. “Why? Want a demonstration?”

“We can take her,” the man offered. “Save you the trouble of transporting.”

“I told you, she’s not in the system,” Chubs said, the nasty edge to his voice more pronounced. “I know how this works. You can’t line up my payment if she isn’t registered. I have to go into the nearest station and do the paperwork if I want the bounty.”

The man snorted but didn’t try to deny it. “Was that car on the road yours?”

“No,” Chubs said, rolling his eyes. “I flew in on a cloud and came blitzing down from the Heavens like a bolt of lightning on this kid.”

“Hey, now,” came the PSF’s gruff reply. “I can take her, and there’s not a damn thing you’d be able to do about it. So watch your attitude, boy.”

That attitude was what was throwing me off, too. Chubs wasn’t brave by nature; courage tended to rear up when he felt that his friends were threatened, true, but this wasn’t so much bravery as it was recklessness. And that was the last—the very last—thing I associated with him.

I don’t know how much time passed between then and the moment the PSF’s radio buzzed. A minute. Ten years. Forever.
“This is Jacobson, do you read?”

The man unclipped his black walkie-talkie from his belt. “I read. Did you find anything?”

“No, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s hard to tell much with the rain coming down. Any footprints would be washed out, over.”

“She’s alone, I’m sure of it,” Chubs was saying. “I followed her.”

“All right,” the man said. I saw his boots sink that much deeper into the dead, muddy grass as he took two steps toward me. My eyes squeezed shut again, and it was near impossible to force my body to go limp with him so close. I didn’t want him touching me. Panic flared up bright as morning light as his boot nudged my ribs.

The cold, wet leather of his glove closed around my upper arm and he yanked me off the ground. My arm twisted, sending sharp, shooting pains into my shoulder.

“Don’t!” Chubs snarled. “Don’t touch—!”

The PSF’s grip didn’t ease up.

“I mean,” Chubs began again, this time his voice neutral, “they take out the cost of medical care from the reward money if the kids are injured. I can handle it from here…sir.”

“That’s better,” the man said, dropping me facedown into the dirt. “Get her and clear the hell out of here. You’re trespassing, and if I find you back here, I’ll arrest you myself.”

The rainwater was collecting in my ear, running free down the curve of my cheek, and soaking Liam’s old jacket. I waited for it to carry my fear away, too, down into the earth where it couldn’t touch me again. I took in one deep, wet gulp of air and held it.

A car engine started in the distance. I opened my eyes again, watching Chubs come toward me. He knelt, one hand smoothing the tangled cloud of hair off my face. We listened to the wheels churn up the loose gravel of the driveway, both of us still and silent.

“I’m sorry,” Chubs said finally. “Are you okay? Did he dislocate your shoulder, because if he did—”

“I’m all right,” I said, “but—but could you please cut the zip ties off now?” I was horrified by the way my voice shook, but in addition to the discomfort, my brain was starting to spark up old memories that were better left buried deep. The bus ride into Thurmond. The sorting. Sam.

The minute I heard the plastic snap under his knife, I was pushing myself up onto my knees, ignoring the ache in my right shoulder. Chubs began to reach over to check on it, but I leaned back, just out of his reach.

We sat there, staring at each other, letting the space between us fill with rain and silence. Finally, I held out my hand, and without a word, he pressed the black booklet into it.

The cover was a tough faux leather, and I hadn’t necessarily been wrong in thinking that it was a passport. At first glance, it looked exactly the same—from the faint blue paper and the iridescent United States of America seal overlaying it.

FUGITIVE PSI RECOVERY AGENT
. God, there was an official title for it?

“Joseph Lister,” I read. “Age twenty-four, six feet, a hundred and seventy pounds, from Penn Hills, Pennsylvania.” I glanced over at him. He was wearing an identical scowl to the one in his official photograph. “You know, it’s funny. The least believable thing about all that is your weight.”

“Oh, hilarious,” he groused, snatching it back from me before I could skim through the other pages. It was so Chubs—so the Chubs I knew—that I smiled. He struggled to keep his lips pressed in a stern line, but I saw the beginnings of a curve.

“I really thought you were dead,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t have let them take you.”

He brought a hand up to his shoulder, pressing it there, as if his mind was cycling back to that moment, too. “You pushed the panic button, right?”

I nodded.

“I would have done the same thing,” he said. “The exact same thing. Well—” He stopped, actually considering this. “I probably would have been a little steadier in applying pressure to the wound, but other than that, yes. Well…”

“You’ll want to stop now,” I told him dryly. “Before you ruin our touching moment.”

The window above us suddenly opened and Jude’s curling mass of hair appeared there. “Roo—are you okay? Oh my God, Vida wouldn’t let me watch, but I tried to go around front, but the doors are all boarded up and there’s nothing in here so I just—”

Chubs helped me up, giving me a look that clearly asked,
What fresh hell is this?

“I’ll tell you everything later, and you’re going to do the exact same. But for now, we have to see if we can find some kind of clue about what direction Lee might have headed—”

Chubs’s brows drew together as he lowered his voice. “Didn’t Lee tell you the procedure he and Harry set up to make contact?”

“I knew he had one, just not what it was,” I said. “But he told you?”

He nodded, shifting so his back was facing the window. And, I realized, the people inside. “We need to go. Now.”

“Wait,” I began, but he already had his arm looped through mine.

“They’re watching the house; we
have
to go,” he said. “And I’m sorry, I’d much rather not have the League riding with us.”

I detangled my arm from his, taking a step back. “I can’t leave them.”

“You are
not
League,” he insisted. “You are not one of them. You’re one of
us
.”

“Don’t think about it as
us
and
them
,” I pleaded. “We can all work together on this for now. You don’t have to come back with us to California after we find Liam; you just have to stay with us now.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Vida’s electric blue hair through the window screen. “Back then, you didn’t want me to stay, either, remember?”

“Yeah but that was…different,” he said, his voice low. “And you know it.”

“But at the time,
you
didn’t know that.”

I had read him right. I saw it in his face, in the rigid lines of his tight shoulders.

“You asked me if I trusted you,” I whispered. “Do you trust me?”

He blew out a long breath, his hands resting on his hips. “God help me,” he said finally, “I do. But I trust
you
, not them. I don’t even know who they are.”

I only held out my hand and waited for him to take it. I needed his long fingers to close around mine, wanted that final proof that his better sense and reasoning had given way to the belief he used to have in me. I waited for him to come with me, to accept that we were now in this together again, that time and distance and uncertainty hadn’t been enough to shake
us
.

And he did.

TEN

T
HE TAN
SUV
REEKED
of fake evergreens. The smell of the air freshener was so overpowering, I had to roll down my windows to get fresh air circulating.

“You wouldn’t be complaining if you were there to smell the guy I bought it off of,” Chubs said, handing me a pair of sunglasses to wear. “Now. Put your seat belt on, please.”

Vida and Jude were already buckled into the backseat, though they hadn’t gone quietly. My favorite team member got one look at the metal grating that separated the front seats from the back and just about ripped my hair out at the roots trying to yank me out of the front seat.

“Are we driving this slowly because you have no idea where we’re going,” Vida asked, “or because you’re hoping we jump out of the car and put ourselves out of our misery?”

Jude sat straight up, alarmed. We both recognized that tone. Vida picked fights when she was bored, and battles when she was stressed. If it were the latter, only one of them was going to make it out of this car ride alive. We’d be washing the blood off the windows for weeks.

“That’d be doing the psychos holding your leashes a favor.”

For the first time, I was grateful for the metal grating between us. “They are
not
psychos, you condescending dick!” she snarled.

“I’m condescending?” Chubs asked. “Do you even know what that word means?”

“You piece of flaming—”

“So,”
Jude said, his voice high. “Roo, how do you and Chubs know each other?”

“Charles,” he gritted out. “My name is Charles.”

“That’s supposed to be better?” Vida scoffed. Chubs let the car roll to a stop at a red light and turned to look at me, fire burning behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Yup,” I said. “She’s always like this.”

The tension that welled up in the car hovered among us, strung tight. One word or wrong move would snap it. Jude drummed his fingers against the armrest.

“Cut that shit out, nimrod, before I cut them off,” Vida said.

“Nimrod?” he shot back, his voice jumping an octave with outrage. “You don’t have to be so mean, you know.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “
That
gets you upset? That dumb name? She’s been calling you Judith for months.”

Chubs laughed but turned it into a cough when he saw my look.

“Yeah, well,” Jude huffed, drawing his boney knees up to his chest. “I guess I just don’t see what’s so insulting about being called a girl. The two of you seem to do okay when you’re not biting my head off or acting like I’m five years old.”

“As opposed to what?” Chubs said, flicking on the turn signal to merge onto a highway. “The ten-year-old you actually are?”

“Hey,” I warned. “None of that. He’s almost fifteen.”

“Roo,” Jude began, his eyes shining, “thank you.”

“You were that gawky when I first met you,” I continued, poking Chubs in the shoulder, “and you were eighteen.”

“Never mind,” Jude grumbled.

“You were the gawky one,” he corrected, “Lee was the reckless one, Zu was the cute one, and I was the wise one.”

There was a knock on the grate behind us. Jude’s face was floating there, his dark brown eyes peering between the two of us from behind the metal screen. “It would be nice,” he said, “if we had any idea what you guys are talking about. Like who this Zu person is?”