Like I said, old habits die hard.
“Come on, dude. I lived on the streets for the better part of a year. My brain is hardwired for stuff like this.” I force out a light laugh, which I hope sounds convincing.
Sterling’s face is pinched in consternation, but just as he opens his mouth to speak, Greyson twists the knob on the radio and a twangy country song fills the van. Covering his ears, Sterling yells at his brother to change the station. The argument between the two lasts for at least ten minutes, until they finally agree on neutral territory . . . which ends up being a contemporary station that plays hits from the last several decades.
Sterling settles back in his seat, singing along to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time.”
Greyson’s gaze slides to me.
“Thanks,” I mouth.
The corner of his lip tips up in a half-smile, and he nods once before training his eyes back on the road. Leaning back, I tilt my head and stare out the window at the flat expanse of nothing that is Nebraska. The monotony of the landscape lulls me into a light sleep. I dream of Sterling on a concert stage in the middle of a cow pasture as a backup dancer to BTS and don’t wake until we roll to a stop at a gas station.
I rub my eyes, surprised to see the sun hanging so low in the sky. When I check the clock on the dash, it’s already three thirty. The sun sets quickly this time of year. I’d guess we only have another hour or so of daylight.
There’s a knock on the glass. On the other side of the window Ash holds up a bag of sour cream and cheddar Lays and a Monster energy drink.
“You want?” she asks when I open the door and step into the crisp winter air. Small flurries tornado, circling the pavement around us. Even though I’m not as sensitive to the cold as a human, I rub my arms, wondering if I should dig my coat out of our luggage in the back of the van.
“Naw, I’m good.” I scan the gas station, taking in the other cars and where the owners are. We need to switch White Whale’s license plate, but we can’t be conspicuous about it. I spot a gray SUV parked on the side of the station. Ash catches me eyeing the car.
“That a good candidate?” They all know we need to do this, but I’m the only one fixated on a clean escape. And why wouldn’t I be? No one else is conditioned to stay under the radar. All four of the other angel-borns have always relied on the detailed planning of other Nephilim to keep them safe, whether in the academy or the communities they were born into. Only I have real world experience on how to be invisible—except for Tinkle, but he doesn’t really count. It’s unnerving how easy it is to slip back into my old mode.
A surprising rush of resentment clogs my throat, and I have to cough it down before answering Ash. I hate the way it leaves a bitter aftertaste on my tongue.
“Yes, that’s the one. Let’s get everyone back in the car.”
I do a quick sweep of the area, looking for cameras, but I’m confident the SUV is parked in a blind spot. Once everyone is in the car, I direct Greyson to leave the station and swing around the back entrance, pulling up behind the other car. Sterling and I jump out, switching the plates as quickly as possible. Then we’re back on the road with another nine hours and twenty-six minutes to go.
I tap my fingers nervously on the armrest, unable to contain the bubble of unease blooming in my chest the closer we get to our destination. I barely talk to anyone for the next several hours, content to let the others think I’m either dozing or deep in thought, when really I’m just trying not to freak out at the thought of seeing Steel again after all these weeks. I didn’t anticipate being this nervous, but with every mile we inch closer to him, the knot in my gut tightens a bit more. By the time we roll into Pontiac, it’s early morning, and I’m seriously concerned I’m going to yak.
“We’re here,” Greyson announces unnecessarily. Despite the late hour, or rather early hour, we’re all awake and alert. Except for Tinkle of course, who’s taking his fiftieth nap of the drive.
The first of the sun’s morning rays barely tease the horizon as we roll past the city limits. The streets are empty, and the offices and store fronts we pass are dark. Not surprising. Who would be up at this time of day? Even the Forsaken will be hiding in their dens right now.
We have the address of the location Steel was at when he called me, but if he’s not there anymore, we don’t have any leads. If he’s moved on there’s no easy way to find him until, or unless, he calls again. Sterling brought two of his laptops just in case, but we have to find a place to set them up and connect them to the internet if we plan to use his hacker skills.
“What’s the next turn?” Greyson asks his brother. He can’t check the maps on his phone since they ditched them all back in Colorado before we crossed into Nebraska. We kept mine in case we need it to find Steel. It’s currently stowed in a homemade Faraday cage—an enclosure used to block electromagnetic fields that prevents the phone from being tracked. We picked up basic pay-as-you-go phones at a pit stop in Iowa so we can still stay in touch, but they don’t have any features or apps. Making and receiving calls is the extent of their bells and whistles.
“You’re going to hang a right at University Drive. The address I pulled is a motel. If he’s there we should see his bike parked in the lot.”
“Are you sure he wouldn’t have rolled it into his room?” Nova calls from the back of the van. “He has a special relationship with his Ducati. I’m not entirely sure he’d leave her out in the open.” Her lips are curved into a smile, but I don’t think she’s joking. Both twins seem to be mulling it over.
“It’s possible,” Greyson concedes as we pull into the parking lot of the motel. The pavement is caked with ice and riddled with potholes. Mounds of snow are piled along the perimeter. We make a slow trek around the lot, but don’t spot Steel’s bike anywhere. “Well, none of us really expected it to be that easy, did we?”
Sterling raises his hand. “Yes. I absolutely expected it to be that easy.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Greyson twists to grin at his brother.
“What now?” Ash asks.
“Now,” Greyson announces, “we get to work.”
I wish I’d known “get to work” was code for drive and walk around every street in Pontiac looking for Steel or his fancy motorcycle. That gets us a lot of nowhere fast and is boring as all get-out. Every minute that ticks by winds me tighter. By midday I’m sure I’m going to snap.
Eventually, we park White Whale next to a hotel, and Sterling “borrows” their Wi-Fi to hook into city-owned cameras. Ash, Nova, Greyson, and Tinkle take off on foot to search the surrounding area. I get stuck in the van with Sterling in case my phone rings.
It’s tedious work, but after he makes it past the city’s flimsy firewall—his words, not mine—Sterling starts searching the traffic cameras. Hours pass.
In the early afternoon he spots a recording of Steel zooming through an intersection several days ago, but that won’t help us pinpoint his current location. At least we have visual proof he’s been here, which means we traced the phone call to the right area. That’ll be little comfort if we can’t find him.
Ash and Nova—with Tinkle in tow—circle back with food around four PM. I’m ravenous and inhale the greasy burger and fries I’m presented with. It isn’t long before Greyson returns as well.