I closed my mouth. If I wanted to keep my line open with Kalif, I'd better not alert this shifter to him, either.
"Jory," Mom said, her voice sneering. "Good to see you. I was hoping you'd come along."
Blood rushed to my head. That tone. I'd heard it before. This could be one of the Carmines—a total stranger—or . . . . I shifted my hand rougher instead, tightening the skin across my palm the way I did in the first part of my signal with Mel.
Mom smiled, and returned the signal. I wished I could melt back into the fog. Mel. How had he gotten here first? Hadn't we checked the video feed for continuity?
Yes. We'd thought Mom had been asleep, but it must have been Mel. Or had he found a way to pause the camera, looping the tape like Kalif was doing now?
I gasped for air.
"Jory?" Kalif said. "Are you okay? I'm looking at the visual and it looks like—"
"Very good," Mel said, continuing to crush my hand in his grip. "What gave me away?"
My voice came out as a croak. "It was the sneer," I said. "You should trademark it."
"Jory?" Kalif said over the earpiece. "What's going on?"
Mel's eyes flicked to my earpiece. He must have been able to hear Kalif's voice. He reached out his hand for it.
I pulled away, leaning as far from it as I could. "It's your dad," I said.
Kalif swore, and began to say something else, but Mel snatched the earpiece off my ear, and I didn't catch what it was. Before I could stop him, Mel snapped the earpiece in half and dropped it on the floor, then backed me against the wall, frisking my pockets until he came up with my phone. "Bye, son," he said into the receiver.
And then he hung up.
Twenty-two
Mel jammed my cell phone into his pocket. I pressed harder against the wall, trying to get away from him, but he leaned into me, flattening me against the wall in a way that made every hair on my body stand on end. He may have looked like Mom, but he didn't smell like her. He smelled a little like Kalif, if he'd been bathing in a pool of anxiety and danger. This wasn't just my boyfriend's father—he was a murderer, and a traitor, and a guy who slept with every mark around just because he could. My skin washed cold. What was he going to do to me?
Think. I couldn't worm away from him. Even if I did manage to slip away—which was unlikely since he had me so literally cornered—he could bring all the security in the place down on me.
Dad was in the hall. If I could maneuver Mel out there, Dad would be able to help me. I'd just have to make sure Mel made it obvious that he wasn't Mom.
That's what I needed to do. It would work, but only if Mel didn't know Dad was there. "Where's my dad?" I asked. "What have you done with him?"
Mel smiled. "You got all this way, and you still couldn't get to either of your parents. Not so smart now, are you?"
Right. That was exactly what this was about: which of us was smarter. Leave it to Mel to get a kick out of proving himself better at the shifter game than a couple of teenagers.
Except he wasn't, not quite. I still had Dad, and that meant I had an edge that he didn't.
I needed to figure out what his plan was and steer it toward my father. "So what now?" I asked. "You turn me over to Aida's parents? Tell them I'm an accessory to murder?"
Mel rewarded me with a look of surprise. Yes, I thought. I do know more than you expected me to.
But he recovered quickly. "You're going to come with me," he said. "Quietly, if you want to live."
My joints locked up. Focus. I did want to live, so the most important thing I could do was take control of the situation.
He wanted me to be quiet. That meant he was trying to hide from someone, and that someone could only be the Carmines. They had to know he was here—he'd done something with my mother, after all. But if he got me in the same room as them—"You're afraid I'll tell them the truth," I said. "That you killed all those people." They might know he was here, but he couldn't risk them knowing that he had me, lest they question me.
Hell, they didn't have to ask. I'd shout it at them.
Mel's sneer was back.
I forced myself to smile. "They're going to know," I said. "Kalif is in the system. He can reverse whatever tricks you had set up to cover your escape. He's recording it right now—everything you do to me."
I flashed my eyes meaningfully at the corner of the room where the camera would be, but it was well hidden. I couldn't see it from here.
I doubted Mel could either, but he followed my gaze, just for a second. I felt a surge of confidence. This was working. I had him worried.
Then Mel grabbed my arm and twisted it hard against the wall. I tried not to wince, but I couldn't help it. Mel yanked my phone from his pocket and pressed it against my face. "You're going to call him back," he said. "He's going to cover our exit. He'll make it look like I was sitting here all along. Like you were never here and I never left. Got it? Otherwise, you die."
Mel pressed his hip against me, and I felt a metal object dig into my side. I looked down, and I could see it: the outline of a gun in a holster under his shirt.
My heart pounded. I looked up at the invisible camera again, the images of the shooting victims flashing through my mind. If Mel was trying to hide from the Carmines, he couldn't kill me here. He wouldn't want to leave a mess.
No doubt Kalif was having a panic attack, watching this. At least I'd laid to rest the idea that he and Mel might be working together. Mel wouldn't have wasted an opportunity to rub that in my face, now that he had me. His ego wouldn't allow for it.
But what was Mel planning to do to me, if not kill me? No doubt Aida was waiting on the outside with transport, to take me out of here. And then? They couldn't hold me forever, and I was dangerous, now that I knew the truth.
I had to get away from him.
"I'll call Kalif," I said. "Once we're outside. He already has the hallways masked. We can get that far without getting caught."
Mel breathed in my ear, and I craned my neck away. "Not a chance," he said. "I'm not giving him the opportunity to do anything stupid."
I closed my eyes. Stupid, like bring the Carmines down on us. The very thing he ought to be doing. I didn't need to get all the way outside—just out the door, where Dad would have the upper hand when he came after us. "Fine," I said. "From the hallway, then."
Mel grunted. "Don't get any ideas," he said. "The others won't think anything of it if I put a bullet into your head. If I tell them you brought a gun in to break out your parents, they'll be glad you're dead."
I nodded, though I had a hard time imagining that people who wanted to torture information out of my parents would be glad that Mel shot me in the head after I was already disarmed. He was just trying to scare me into doing what he wanted.
Mel pushed the door open and hauled me out into the hall. The fog was still thick around us, and I was relieved not to have to look at Mel's cruel version of my mother's face. I held still, listening, but I didn't hear Dad.
"Fine," I said, a little louder than I needed to. "Give me the phone. I'll make the call." I couldn't see Mel's face to know if he was suspicious, but he held tight to both my arms, pushing me against the wall so he could feel my every move.
Now that we were in the hall, Kalif couldn't see us anymore. "He won't believe it's me," I said. "We should just get out of here while we still have cover."
I felt Mel shrug. "We can go back to the cameras. Or you can convince him."
The gun dug into my side, and I forced myself to breathe evenly. I heard the beep of my phone dialing, and then he pressed the receiver against my ear.
It rang once, twice, three times. And then Kalif picked up. "Dad?" he said.
"No, it's me," I said. "Your dad wants you to cover our exit." Mel leaned in tighter, pushing the gun further into my hip. If he didn't have the safety on, he was risking his own flesh as much as mine. "He has a gun."
Kalif breathed for a moment, and then I heard a loud tap, like he'd put something down on a ta
ble. He sounded farther away, like he was talking to someone else. I was near certain that Mel couldn't hear.
"Like I said, they're in your basement," he said. "I have all the evidence you need. But if she dies, I'm going to send everything I have to the NSA. I have pictures of all of you. Proof they can't ignore."
I bit down hard on my lip to keep from yelling into the phone. What was Kalif doing? Sure, calling the Carmines made sense, but threatening them? He was setting himself up as their enemy, when we needed to earn their trust.
But at this moment, what I needed most was for Mel to move down the hall where Dad could save me. "Okay, great," I said into the phone. And then to Mel, "He's got it."
Mel banged my head against the wall. My teeth dug into my lip, and I felt blood run down my chin. I cried out, hopefully loud enough that Dad would hear.
"Right," Mel said. "I'm sure he agreed that easily."
If I hadn't been trying to work under threat of death, I might have made a better show of it. Mel jerked the phone away, and turned it onto speaker.
Fortunately, Kalif was back. "Jory?" he said. "Are you okay? I can't see you anymore."
"Your dad is right here," I said, hopefully signaling to Kalif not to let Mel onto what he'd done. "We're in the hall, getting ready to go back up through the man traps. Cover us, okay?"
Kalif was silent for a moment.
"Kalif?" I said. "Do it for me?"
"Okay." I cringed at how uncertain he sounded. He almost certainly thought this was Mel instead of me.
"What are you going to do?" I asked Mel. "If you don't have any way to check up on him, you'll just have to trust him, right?"
Mel grunted again. I was fairly certain that he didn't love that plan, but he was the one who'd decided to corner me down here in the basement. It was clever to use the same cover that got me in as a means to get back out—but like most clever plans, it had serious drawbacks.
Like that it relied on Kalif, and Kalif was most definitely on my side.
Mel hesitated just a moment longer, then hauled me toward the exit. I listened through the fog, straining with every step for the slightest footfall that would mean Dad was near.
But I didn't hear anything. Mel brought me up to the doorway where I'd left Dad to stand watch, but he didn't appear.
Where was he? He was supposed to attack Mel. Didn't he know he was supposed to be saving me?
Then I heard the voice booming down the hall, in a direction I'd never been.
"Our people are already looking for you," the man said. "We'll find you in a matter of minutes."
My throat constricted. That sounded like the other half of Kalif's conversation, but this guy—probably Oliver—didn't sound cooperative.
Mel pulled us both against the wall, clamping a hand over my mouth to keep me from crying out. There was one more door ahead of us, and then the man trap, and then the stairs to the hallway up.
I licked the back of my teeth. I could bite Mel, and make him let go. Then I could yell out and get Oliver's attention. But if Oliver had immediate access to me, would that weaken Kalif's position?
The man continued, his voice rising in anger. "Why would the NSA believe a punk like you? Who do you think you are?"
My stomach dropped. This had to be Oliver Carmine. He must have been down in the basement all along, in a room without cameras so Kalif couldn't see him. Did he have Mom down here? If so, where the hell was Dad?
Mel held me tighter. I hoped that he didn't realize that Oliver was talking to Kalif. Kalif's gambit would work better if Mel wasn't expecting it.
Oliver was silent for a moment. "You expect me to believe that? I think I'd know if I had a grandson."
My heart sank. I'd announced to Mel that these were Aida's parents, but what if we were wrong? We'd based that assumption on one photo. Dad had thought he saw the same thing, but if we'd guessed wrong Kalif might have weakened his own position by making an assertion that wasn't true.
But even as I thought that, every muscle in Mel's body tightened. His hand pushed harder over my mouth, pressing my bloody lip against my teeth. It was all I could do not to cry out.
The comment about Oliver knowing if he had a grandson meant something to Mel. Had they been hiding Kalif from his grandparents, just like they'd been hiding them from him?
"I don't respond well to threats," Oliver said. "When we talk face to face, you might want to pick another tactic."
I could taste blood from the cut on my lip. Mel's hand grew sticky against my face, and I resisted the urge to claw at it. I wanted to kick Kalif for putting himself at risk like this. I hoped he was at least fleeing the complex while we spoke, because a big tech firm like this probably was capable of tracking him down in a matter of minutes.
I leaned back against Mel. If Oliver wasn't willing to help us against Mel, I was better off trying to get away from Mel on my own than I was trying to use the Carmines as allies. I shifted my feet, trying to get Mel to lighten his grasp, but I felt his muscles bulge as he increased their density to hold me still.
His whole body was tense. And for the first time, I thought I detected fear in his stance.
My hands broke out in sweats. Who were these people that even Mel was afraid of them?
A woman's voice shouted from farther down the hall, her voice dampened by the fog. "Oliver," she yelled. "The prisoners are loose!"
Mel twitched and leaned in the direction of the door.
That had to be Wendy. No one who wasn't a shifter could have come down through those security measures. They must have been in a room without cameras; Kalif hadn't seen them on the security feed, but if they'd come down the doors and into the fog, Dad would have gotten the jump on them. She must have encountered Dad. He probably heard them and went to investigate. He hadn't been expecting me to run into danger when I went to break out Mom, particularly if he was watching Wendy and Oliver at the time.
Mel hesitated for a second and then body-checked me forward, one hand still on my mouth and the other arm locked around my shoulders. He shoved me through the door at the bottom of the stairs.
I let him push me along, my mind racing. My main task had to be to get away from Mel. Mom and Dad were professionals. If they were loose, then they'd be able to get the upper hand. Wouldn't they?
I could have collapsed to the floor and made him drag me, but Mel could more than overpower me. I could adjust my muscles to be denser and stronger, but he was heavier than me; his body would always have more mass to manipulate, and he was far more experienced. I needed something more than physical resistance to get away from him.
I didn't have much time to think about it. Mel forced me toward the door to the first man trap. But it opened even before we reached it, and Mel shoved me against the wall.
Before the fog funneled in, we both caught a look at the person in the doorway—a shifter wearing Aida's face.
Mel's hand shot out, grabbing hers, and I gathered that they exchanged signals. Through the door, where the fog was thinner, I saw Aida giving both of us a look of surprise, and then she took my hand as well, confirming her identity.
My heart hammered. Now there were two of them and one of me. Maybe I would have been better off with Oliver Carmine. These two definitely wanted me dead because of what I knew. He didn't respond well to threats, sure, but what about pleas for help?
Before I could speak, though, Mel hauled me through the doorway and into the man trap, where the fog was still thin in the air. The door closed heavily behind us. Even if I screamed, Oliver probably wouldn't hear me now.
But instead of helping us up the stairs, Aida narrowed her eyes at Mel. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked.
Mel tossed me against the wall and I caught myself with my hands.
"Saving her," Mel said. "Now we all need to get out of here before your parents find her. Kalif is covering my trail."
My palms stung. Saving me? I turned around to face them. "Right," I snapped. "My hero."
Aida nar
rowed her eyes, first at me, and then at Mel. "If you were going to pull something like this, you could have let me in on it. I could have distracted my parents. Where are they?"
I blinked. So Wendy and Oliver were her parents. But Aida wasn't in on Mel's plan? She and Mel always worked together, just like my parents did. And she'd have just as much interest in covering up the murders as Mel would.
Wouldn't she?
Mel recovered quickly. "I didn't want you to give it away," he said. "You're terrible at lying to them."
Aida paused. She wasn't putting up much of a front for Mel, either, and for a moment, I felt justified for not being a master of lying to people who were supposed to be close to me.
This was my opening, though. If Aida didn't know Mel had been trying to intercept me, what else didn't she know? "You didn't really think you were going to get away with it," I said to her. "Framing my parents for your murders."
Mel made a move toward me, but Aida grabbed him by the arm, holding him back. She looked at him uncertainly, but she spoke to me. "I'm sorry about what your parents did. But they're the killers, not us."
I edged along the wall away from Mel. Did she really believe that? I was tired of dealing with trained liars—it was always so hard to tell when they were telling the truth. "They couldn't be," I said. "We found files where you deleted their alibi. Did you think we were stupid?" I pointed at Mel. "He even seduced the wife of the victim. How obvious can you get?"
Mel wrenched out of Aida's grasp and closed his hand over my throat. But Aida's wide eyes told me everything I wanted to know. She'd had no idea. She wasn't in on it.
Mel softened his face and glanced over his shoulder at her, but it couldn't have been very convincing when he had me pinned to the wall by the neck. "She's lying," Mel said. "They fabricated some story to prove her parents' innocence, but it's just denial."
Mel's hand shook at my throat. He was losing control of this situation, and fast. He sounded desperate, like a man who already knew he was caught. And despite the sharp pain of Mel's tightening hands, I couldn't help but smile a little.
Mel must have seen, because he moved his hand up to my mouth. He pulled me from the wall with the other arm, twisting me in front of him.
A Thousand Faces Page 23
