Gypsy (The Cavy Files Book 1) (37 page)

I stare at it, attempting to figure it out myself before Jude supplies the answer. “It’s a scene I’m thinking of shining up for a humorous interpretation next semester. In forensics. I thought maybe we could try it out together.”

“Oh.” My tongue feels thick, my ears aching to hear more. “Thank you.”

“Ah-ah-ah, one more. No thank-yous yet.”

The last one is a bit larger and hard instead of soft. The metal edges belong to a picture frame, and the photo in it is a gorgeous look at the Ashley River that runs behind Darley Hall. The big house is in the background, and if I close my eyes, I can see our old cabins behind on the lane.

“How?” The whisper comes from me, but it sounds breathy and far away.

“My dad’s been sneaking around again, still after his story. Replacing the research the G-men stole.” The purse to Jude’s lips suggests he doesn’t approve. “I told him he’s nuts, but his midnight trips came in handy after I drew your name in the Secret Santa.”

It wouldn’t take more than a short reach to touch him. My fingers twitch, begging me to do it, but the memory of what it felt like to see his dead body stills them. But he’s given me these gifts that represent the two halves of my life, that show that at least
he
believes they can be reconciled, and I want to give him something in return. “You’re the other reason I didn’t open the gifts. I knew my Secret Santa was you or Peter, and I knew it would be easy to tell after I opened the gifts.”

“So you thought it would be better to keep hoping it was me? Why?”

“Because, nerd, I think you’re interesting, too.” Something in my brain snatches at the words, insisting I sound like an idiot, but they’re gone and the wonder and happiness on Jude’s face suggest otherwise.

“And handsome?”

“Well, I—”

Before I know what’s happened, his hand is on the back of my neck, tangled in my hair, and his soft lips flutter against mine. It’s perfect. Softness turns to searching, hesitance turns to heat as our lips move, find a comfortable way to interlock. He pulls me against him, our hearts pounding in a crazy joint rhythm, and my fingers knead his back.

My gift slams through my mind, dislodging my happiness, my desire.

Jude dead in the hydrangeas. Me. A gun on the ground, but there’s more. More people, all faceless, black like shadows. In the last moment before I manage to break the connection between us, I see a sign in the bushes, under Jude’s dead, twisted leg: 168 CONCORD ST.

We break apart, my fingers pressing against my lips in an attempt to hold on to the way it felt before my mutation ruined everything. My chest heaves, my heart refuses to slow down, and a glance suggests Jude isn’t faring any better.

“What’s wrong? Was that not okay?”

“It’s fine.” Better than fine. Amazing. For a beautiful second.

I swallow a sob. He’s going to die. I’m going to be there and so are others.

He’s going to die. Maybe because we met.

“Norah, please trust me. I know something’s wrong. Something more than a new school or not being sure how to act out here.” He straightens his shoulders as though he’s preparing for battle. Or, at the very least, donning armor. “What did you find out the other day, from the person who grew up at Darley before you?”

It takes a few breaths for my brain to catch up, to let go of the image of him bleeding and dead. “Nothing. She wasn’t there, and the person in the store below said she moved out months ago. Dead end.”

“It’s insulting that you think I’m going to believe that. If you don’t want to include me, that’s fine. But don’t lie.” He grimaces. “I just thought… after what you said, I thought this might be a good thing. You and me.”

I tug the sleeve of my cardigan over my hand, then reach out and slide it into his palm. Not because I should.

Because I want to.

Tears burn the back of my throat. “I promise, Jude, if I thought I could include you in what’s going on
and
care about you, I would do both.”

My twisted confession doesn’t help. If anything, the darkening redness in his cheeks suggests it makes him angrier. “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that at all. I
like
you. You’re a good listener, and we’ve been able to help each other. But my life is really complex, and I’m not… I can’t involve you.”

If the injected serum hasn’t changed my gift for the better, there’s nothing I can do about Jude’s death. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to torture myself by hanging around, either.

“You don’t want to open the present.” He puckers his lips as though he tastes something sour, but it shifts into a faint smile. “Well, I’ve got a year and a half to convince you otherwise.”

“Oh, Jude.” I’m exhausted all of the sudden. All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep until the rest of the Cavies figure out how to save Flicker, then sleep some more.

“In the meantime, I don’t plan on letting anything happen to you. So, even if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, I’m going to keep my eye on you.” He crosses his arms. “Plus, I’ve got all my dad’s research to comb through for clues.”

It might be possible for his father to figure out what went on at Darley. There’s no telling what those basement records contained, but if he’s going back now, there’s little to no chance the government left anything incriminating or revealing behind. Even so, my mouth goes dry, coated by fear and the desire to beg Jude to drop it. They need to stay out of it. I can’t let him get hurt because of me.

He goes to leave before I can make words that won’t be counterproductive, but the smile he gives me on the way out promises there aren’t any hard feelings. No reason to feel weird about kissing him, then telling him to stay out of my life. It’s so like him to dispel any potential for awkwardness. Exactly the kind of boy that could help me navigate my first boyfriend, first date, first dance. First other things.

Except I can’t have him. And no one else will, either, unless something changes. Unless I keep changing.

“When’s your birthday?”

He turns and squints at me, almost out the door. The confusion on his face at the random question makes him even cuter. “I’ll be eighteen in April. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering how long I have to come up with a gift as nice as the ones you gave me.” My heart swells. “Thank you. For everything.”

He leaves then, and I get ready for bed. In the moments before I fall asleep I think more about what the serum is doing to us, and whether or not the Olders would be willing to give us any more. I need to be stronger if there’s any way to hold on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance I could change Jude’s number.

Chapter Twenty-Six

It’s Sunday when the twins’ little prepubescent hacker friend finally cracks open the contents of Dane’s computer. Mole and Pollyanna bring the files and we all meet in Beaufort to pore over the information together, except for Reaper, who’s late. Her father had a work emergency or something.

We focus on finding a mention of anything that could refer to a place, a safe house of some kind. Possibly phone numbers that could put us in contact with someone higher up than Dane.

We’re all a little bit surprised that his agency hasn’t come for us yet, seeing as we stole their shit, but they obviously don’t think we’re much of a threat.

Or, perhaps more frustratingly, they know there’s nothing incriminating on the laptop.

“I’ve been listening to Dane, now that I’ve met him and can pinpoint his location, at least when he’s at the apartment. It’s still hard, and sometimes I miss a bunch of stuff for some reason.” Frustration tightens Athena’s voice.

“Probably the same reason I can’t stay invisible, and Gypsy can’t tell when he’s going to die,” Haint offers without looking up from the section of files the twins e-mailed her to go through.

Her grandparents surprised her with an iPad as an early Christmas gift. We all agreed it would have been rude to turn it down just because we don’t celebrate, and then took turns using it. The twins have a laptop and a desktop, but Mole, Pollyanna, and I are all reading files on our phones. Geoff’s going through the file cabinet again.

“Yeah. He’s also being more careful about when he talks and what he says—or maybe he doesn’t check in as often as we think, I don’t know. Either way, I’ve heard a couple of conversations, but they were both so cryptic and full of nonsense that’s probably some kind of code that it’s not making much difference. Unless Dane really likes yoga?” Athena raises an eyebrow my direction.

“How should I know?” I snap.

“Well, you two seem to be awfully close, is all.”

Haint and Polly don’t look up, but they tense. Mole and the twins both watch me, waiting for my reply. I wonder if they’ve talked about this when they’re alone. Geoff, bless his heart, acts as though he doesn’t hear us. He’s part of our group, for sure, but the assimilation of the new him slogs forward at a creeping pace.

Annoyance floods me, partially because of frustration with the situation but also because it’s not like I’m the only one who’s been talking to him in an attempt to learn more. Reaper’s been working on it, too.

But she’s not here.

I lick my lips. “If you want to know whose side I’m on, it’s yours. Dane and I aren’t close, and I don’t know him any better than you.”

A quiet unhappiness reddens Mole’s cheeks. “Then what’s the real reason you didn’t want us to use him to get to Flicker?”

“What?” Anger nudges out my annoyance, leaving resentment in its wake. “My
real
reason is the one I gave at the time—I don’t want us to turn into something they would feel validated in locking up. That’s all.”

Athena doesn’t stop staring. “I’ve overheard him mention an Asset more than once.”

Everyone’s watching now, even Geoff. Disbelief numbs my response.

They think I’d betray them. This is what we’ve come to—not even being able to trust one another.

“You guys believe what you want. I’m not his Asset, I’m not his friend. Neither is Reaper. We’re focused on the same thing y’all are—getting answers. And we’re wasting time.”

This time everyone relaxes, and it feels as though the entire room expels a stale breath. The twins mock my indignant anger and the familiar teasing cools the fire eating the underside of my skin. We all go back to reading, but after more silence, I find myself wishing Flicker could get away again. Tell us something. Anything.

I don’t want to think about it, but the fact that she hasn’t could mean she’s more than hurt. For a while I’d pinned my hopes on our new quick-healing abilities, but now that we know the government didn’t have anything to do with those injections, she can’t be experiencing improvements like the rest of us.

“This is a waste of time.” Pollyanna sighs, setting down her phone and raising her arms to stretch. “They’re the freaking spies or some crap. They’re not going to leave information about a safe house or black house or whatever where it could be compromised.”

“The firewalls on this computer were impressive. They took a week to break, but we did it,” Goose argues.

“Yeah, for a pimpled middle schooler,” Polly mutters. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.” Geoff climbs to his feet, shaking out his legs, and follows her through the back door.

My stomach growls, reminding us all that it’s well past lunchtime, and Goose speeds upstairs and returns with an armful of bread, cheese, meat, and chips in less than thirty seconds. We make sandwiches, and the sounds of munching replaces the occasional frustrated sigh. Pollyanna and Geoff return, looking refreshed and, in her case, less ready to influence us all to drown ourselves in the river.

“Wait, go back.” Athena squints at the laptop while his brother complies, then bites his lip. “That, there. The Concord.”

I freeze. The memory of last night crashes around, hurting all over again. Jude. Dead.

At 168 Concord Street.

It hadn’t occurred to me, not for a second, that the address we were looking for could be connected to where Jude’s going to die.

“I know. It keeps popping up, and it’s code for something, but there’s no way to tell what.”

“I’ve heard it before. That’s where Kim does his yoga. Concord Yoga.”

“It’s a street.” I researched the address last night, but the location meant nothing to me then. Just a warehouse down near the Port of Charleston. “Down by the Port Authority.”

They turn toward me, which is a little surprising considering I wasn’t sure that I’d even spoken the words aloud. Their gazes range from confused to anticipatory, and I try to focus.

“I saw more details of Jude Greene’s death, and it takes place at 168 Concord Street. That can’t be a coincidence, right?”

“I’d think not.” Haint’s eyes light up. “I mean, I don’t know why they’re connected, but the same word coming up on consecutive days? It’s a location where something happens, for sure. If Flicker’s in Charleston, she might be there. Even if she isn’t, we should be able to learn something.”

Everyone abandons their devices and papers, and we form a loose circle in the center of the floor. We need a plan, but now that we have a direction, a new energy fills the room. The days of inaction, of worry, of floating through a life that I don’t get to keep have worn me thin, but the potential of saving Flicker starts to repair my threads. Just because my life will be different doesn’t mean it’s worthless.