Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,33
of humor banished. “I’m not doing this as some kind of favor.”
I knew that was the truth, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to apologize. I refrained, because I knew Steph wouldn’t appreciate it. “Am I allowed to thank you at least?”
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose so,” she said in a tone of long-suffering patience.
My lips twitched with a smile. Maybe I really had been imagining the hint of coolness I’d thought I’d seen when she first got out of the car. She seemed like her usual self, full of warmth and good humor.
“Thank you,” I said again, and then I gave her an impulsive hug. She was more than just my big sister; she was also my best friend, and a truly nice person at heart. Maybe somewhere deep down inside she was angry about all the chaos I’d brought into her life, but she would be ashamed of those feelings and would do her best not to show them. That was all I could ask for, and maybe more than I deserved.
“All righty then,” Steph said when I released her from the hug, “let’s get this show on the road.”
I smiled at the stupid pun, and Steph and I piled into the rental. I’d thought about planning out an elaborate route that would take us by more Olympian properties, but I hadn’t been near any of those properties when I’d spaced out last night, so I saw no reason to keep operating under the hopes that Konstantin was hiding somewhere I could find him by logic.
“So what’s the plan?” Steph asked as she adjusted the seat and mirrors, then started the car.
“It’s a pretty lame one,” I admitted. “But I think we should just get on the Beltway and see what happens.”
The Beltway circles all the way around the city, and driving on it is easily tedious enough to put anyone on autopilot. Unless you hit traffic or there’s an accident, in which case it’s more suited to road rage, but I was going to pretend those possibilities didn’t exist.
Steph’s sidelong glance told me how enamored she was of my plan, but she didn’t argue. “Do you care which way I go when I get to the Beltway?”
“I don’t think it matters. Take whichever way seems to be moving fastest. Once we get on the Beltway, I’ll need you not to talk to me anymore. Just let me zone out.”
“If you’re zoned out, how are you going to tell me which way to go?”
I made a face. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “This is really just an experiment. I have no idea if it’ll work. It might be a waste of time.”
Steph shrugged. “Okay then. Only one way to find out.”
During the ride to the Beltway, Steph and I tried to concoct a plausible story about why I was living in the mansion. Preferably one that didn’t cause her parents—our parents—to ask too many questions. We didn’t have a whole lot of luck. Let’s face it, the situation was hard to explain. I could tell the Glasses I was working for Anderson, and they might almost believe that I’d spend a night or two there if I was working late for some reason. However, being there every night, as well as me moving an awful lot of my stuff from the condo to the mansion, was a lot harder. I was almost glad when we hit the Beltway and it was time to invoke radio silence, because thinking about it was making my head hurt.
It was full dark when we got to the Beltway, and there wasn’t any sign of the upcoming storm yet. The moon’s light was bright and clear even with the city lights doing their best to drown it out. I checked with my gut to see if I had any compulsion to go one way or another on the Beltway, but I felt nothing. There seemed to be a lot of brake lights going east, so Steph chose to go west, and I tried to let my mind drift.
As I’d already established numerous times, it’s hard to get your mind to drift on command, especially when a sense of urgency is riding you. I found myself overanalyzing every minute sensation, every stray thought, every person, place, or thing that caught my eye. My mind bounced around like a hyperactive toddler on a sugar high, and the more annoyed I got at myself for not being able to knuckle down and concentrate, the harder