I was about to ask Kalif for theories about the deaths when Mel's SUV pulled into the parking lot on the far side of the field. Kalif tensed as Aida and Mel both got out of the car wearing their home bodies. If they hadn't already been together, they'd taken the time to meet up before finding us, which meant they'd had time to align their stories. We'd forced them to meet us quickly, but not quickly enough.
The two of them began across the field at a measured pace.
I flexed my fingers. Every muscle in my body wanted to run. I must have looked it, too, because Kalif put his arm around my shoulders, steadying me.
"We could go now," I said. "This might be our last chance."
"They're my parents," he said. "They aren't going to shoot us on sight."
I hoped I was overreacting, and that there was a reasonable explanation for all of this. That would be the best possible scenario, all things considered.
Aida and Mel walked toward us. Aida had her arms folded over her chest, and Mel was already glaring.
Since they were already on the defensive, there was no sense trying to keep things civil. When they got within a few paces, I held up my hand for them to stop. "Stay there," I said.
To their credit, they did.
Aida held out her hand, as if to shake mine. "No," I said. The odds of this being other shifters was slim, especially since Aida had offered me her hand. But once she had hold of my wrist, she could easily overpower me, if that's what she wanted to do. I had training, but I couldn't help but remember how brutal the kidnappers were when they wrangled my parents into the van.
If my parents couldn't fight those people, neither could I.
I squared my shoulders to them, drawing a couple extra inches to my height, and stilling the tremors in my arms. I kept my voice calm and even. "Where are my parents?"
Mel shook his head at me, his jaw set like he was barely holding back his anger. "We were in the middle of looking for them. We might have found something, if you hadn't interrupted."
Right. They hadn't found anything in days, but these last few minutes were the key to everything. He was just trying to make me feel guilty.
Tough luck. "You borrowed the black van that kidnapped my parents," I said. "I think you know exactly where they are."
I studied their faces, looking for cracks in their façade. But Mel and Aida were professionals. They shot each other a confused glance that was so convincing, it might have been scripted.
"That's ridiculous," Mel said. "You must be confused."
For a heartbeat, I panicked. What if the information we had was wrong? Who might have planted that evidence?
Kalif. He'd led me right to it.
I kept every cell in my body locked and still. Kalif wasn't the bad guy. He was working with me. He'd never have suggested meeting with his parents face to face if he was trying to set them up. It would be stupid to allow them a chance to explain.
Kalif spoke next. "We're not confused. You arranged it by email. You left a trail."
A flash of malice crossed Mel's face, just for an instant, and then he had himself back under control. He should have been able to cover better than that, but my dad always said no one gets under your skin like your own kid.
So we were right. They did kidnap my parents. "Where are they?" I asked.
Aida and Mel exchanged glances again, more measured this time. My parents could read each other so well, they could slip each other cues that no one else in the world would recognize, not even me. If Aida and Mel were having that kind of silent conversation, I couldn't read it, either.
I waited, standing perfectly still, as if suspended in time. All I wanted at that moment was for her to tell me something that made sense—something that meant my parents were fine. Something that meant our lives could just go back to the way they were before.
"Your parents," Aida said finally, "are in holding cells."
I took a step back, imagining my parents cowering behind bars. Kalif stepped up just behind me, letting me lean against him.
"What?" I asked.
Aida's eyes flicked toward Mel, just for a moment. He stared straight at us, not even sparing her a glance.
"Holding cells," she said again, slowly. "We had to detain them."
If Kalif hadn't been supporting me, the asphalt might have opened up and swallowed me whole. "They're alive?" I asked.
Aida nodded.
I forced myself to breathe. Everything else was fixable, as long as they stayed that way.
I'd never seen Kalif angry before, but he was seething now. "How could you not tell us this?" he asked. "You made Jory worry her parents were dead, when you knew all along where they were. Do you have any idea how scared she was?"
Is, I thought. "What happened?"
Mel pointed at the papers in my hands. "You've got the evidence right there," he said. "I thought you'd put everything together." He was baiting me, waiting for me to give up what I knew, so he could tailor his answers to it.
Not likely.
I should have figured things out before confronting them, but the alarm had forced my hand. What I needed now was a good bluff—one Mel couldn't immediately call.
I looked down at the photo on top of my pile of papers—a man lying in a pool of his own blood.
"Take a good look," Mel said. "Because your parents murdered him."
The blood drained from my face. Kalif's fingers laced through mine. I kept every muscle still, so my body wouldn't betray any reaction. "That's ridiculous," I said. I kept my voice so flat that it came out monotone, and Mel's lips curled into a slight smile. He knew he had the upper hand. "My parents don't kill people. Not ever, not even in self-defense." My mind raced for the right answers—to piece together what had really happened here, so I could spit the truth in Mel's face. But I didn't know. I hadn't had enough time to prepare.
Kalif followed up for me. "Who did you give them to?" he asked. "There aren't any shifter police. But we saw the video. There were at least four kidnappers. You were working with someone."
Aida spoke slowly, cutting her eyes sideways to Mel, as if asking for permission. "There are some who look out for our interests."
The hairs on my neck prickled. "Asylum," I said.
Mel's smile widened. A heavy weight settled in my chest. The only reason for him to be that happy about the connection was if the truth was more terrible than his bluff.
Kalif waved an arm at Aida. "This is ridiculous. If there are shifter cops, why have I never heard of them? We've done thousands of things they should have busted us for."
That was true, but police worked for governing bodies, and governments worked by popular consent. I sure hadn't consented to be governed by them, and I was certain my parents hadn't, either. "They aren't cops," I said. "They can't be."
"Then who are they?" Kalif asked. His face contorted in anger and disbelief. "Vigilantes? Is this what happened to Helene and her family?"
Mel gave Kalif one patronizing shake of his head. "Helene is fine. She and her mother moved back to Europe, to be near her mother's family."
"And her father?" Kalif asked. "What did you do, drag him off in his sleep? Or did you kidnap him on a mission, like you did to Jory's parents?"
Mel straightened, his chest and shoulders bulking slightly, like a gorilla making himself known as the alpha male. "You may get to help around here," Mel said, "but you don't get to talk to me like that."
Kalif set his jaw, which told me he took Mel's sidestep of the question for an admission of guilt. "Right," he said. "I'll just get back to facilitating your work, then. As long as I don't ask what it's for."
Aida looked from Kalif to Mel, as if she didn't know whose side to take. Finally, she turned to me, her face pleading. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but your parents did murder those people." She pointed to the picture of the man, lying in blood. "That's Ruben Ferreira. They killed him before he could testify in a court trial against a mob boss in Chicago. He was under police protection, but they t
ook on the identities of the officers he was working with, gained his trust, and then shot him in the head."
"Please," I said. "When were my parents in Chicago?"
"Before you were born," Mel said. But he kept his eyes on Kalif, and Kalif stared back, like he was daring his dad to come near me.
I wanted to tell him to knock it off. Provoking Mel wasn't going to help anything. But I didn't dare show the smallest crack of tension between Kalif and me. If I did, his parents would use it as leverage.
That's what we did. We manipulated people. But we didn't kill. How many times had my father told me—ordered me—never to take a life? It was the first rule. The only rule. There was no way he'd broken it once, let alone enough times to leave this pile of evidence. I lowered my voice, looking directly at Aida. "Someone must have set them up."
Aida's eyes were sad, like she wished, for my sake, that I was right. "They hid it from us," she said, "and I'm glad they hid it from you. It shows they had shame."
Shame. I shook my head, remembering his words. A regular person can kill someone in self-defense, he'd said. But we have an edge over them. We're powerful. We don't dare cross that line—not ever. Those weren't the words of a murderer, past or present.
Aida sighed. "The evidence is right in your hands. Go ahead and keep it. Look over it."
"Evidence of what?" I asked. "Murders from years ago? You can't possibly know it was them after all this time."
"If they'd left it in the past," Aida said, "then we never would have caught them. But they killed another man just a few months ago. They made it look like a drug deal, and the cops believed it. But Mel did an investigation, and traced it back to your parents." She pointed to the papers in my arms. "Read. You'll see."
"I followed them that night," Mel said. "I saw the whole thing. Your parents were good. It took us a month to trace back to the client, and the rest of these murders."
I crossed my arms across my chest. We were all trained liars, so I couldn't tell if even they believed the things they were saying. This could just be another layer of lies, designed to keep me from discovering the truth. Nothing they could say would prove otherwise.
"I want to see my parents," I said.
"Of course you do," Mel said. "You think because you can do a little reconnaissance you can break your parents out of a shifter facility?" He scoffed at me. "You don't stand a chance."
Aida's voice shook as she spoke. "No one escapes," she said. "They can find you anywhere."
I narrowed my eyes at them. "If you believe that," I said, "then there's no harm in letting me know where they are, is there?"
Aida shook her head vehemently. "I don't want you in danger."
I held my arms out to the sides. "How am I not already in danger, if no one escapes?"
Aida cringed. "You're not a murderer. They know you exist. That's more than you want them to know."
"Then what?" I said. "My parents are going to be prisoners forever? I'll never see them again? And I'm supposed to be okay with that?"
Mel gave me a look of disdain. "We have an obligation not to let each other go running around killing people. Can you imagine what will happen if a shifter assassin gets caught by the government? There could be genetic tests, weight detectors, kill orders."
I stood frozen to the spot. No. Of course they wouldn't let them go, if they believed my parents posed that kind of threat. "You're going to execute them," I said. My voice sounded flat again, but better flat than hysterical.
Aida cringed, and gave Mel a look of reproof. I couldn't help but wonder what softer way she'd planned to break the news. Maybe over some pancakes. Sorry, honey. We're going to kill your parents. "You can't do this," I said. Though that was stupid, as they obviously already had.
Aida's voice was pleading. "You have to understand what a risk that is. When people feel their lives are threatened, they'll do anything to feel safe again. There'll be witch hunts. People will die."
"You mean you'll die," I said. "That's what you're really afraid of."
Aida looked past me. She knew, rightly, that I would never understand. The one she was worried about persuading now was Kalif.
He stared at her over my shoulder, and I couldn't help but wonder if he'd positioned me between him and them as an unequivocal statement of whose side he was on.
I resisted the urge to shake myself physically. Kalif and I needed to extract ourselves from this situation, before it escalated. If Aida and Mel were among my parents' masked assailants, they could take us down easily, and I didn't think that the mom and child in the park would come to our rescue.
What else did I need from them? What would I wish I had asked, while I had them talking? "If my parents are going to die," I said, "why hasn't it happened yet?"
"We need to get as much information from them as possible," Aida said. "To make sure we can trace anyone else who's been working with them."
I squinted at her. "I suppose I should count myself lucky that you didn't turn me over, too."
"You're a child," Aida said. "No one wants to hold you responsible. That's why we kept it from you. We want to protect you. You don't need to be tortured."
I didn't miss the veiled threat.
Aida must have sensed I wasn't buying it. I'd been hit with too much—it probably showed on my face. She lowered her voice, as if afraid to speak the words too loud. "Really, Jory," she said. "You have no idea what you're messing with. If you go after your parents, they'll kill you. They'll kill Kalif. If they think we helped you, they'll torture us, too."
Kalif's voice was dry. "Nice friends. I see why you work with them."
Aida looked down at the ground. Even Mel wasn't smiling anymore. And for a split second, I thought I saw Aida's fingertips tremble.
Was it an act? Was she truly afraid for me?
Or was she afraid of me?
"When did you plan to tell me?" I asked. "After they were dead?"
Aida couldn't look me in the eye. "We thought it would be better if you didn't know."
I let my voice turn to steel. "You thought it would be better?"
Mel took a step between Aida and me, as if shielding her. "It's not your fault what your parents did. It's hard for shifters to be alone in the world—worse than it is for regular people. You need us."
I could feel bile rising in my throat. They wanted me to fold into their family, like nothing happened. I wanted to scream, to beat Mel's puffed up chest with my fists and demand to see my parents. But that wouldn't do anything to get me what I wanted.
"Come back to the house," Mel said. "You'll need some time to think and go over the files."
My body tensed. I could make a run for it. From the way Kalif glared at his parents, I was pretty sure he'd come with me. I had the papers, but I needed more—both supplies and information.
"I'll think about it," I said.
Mel had the nerve to smile. "I know it's hard," he said. "But we can take care of you. You don't have to be alone."
If I hadn't been afraid to get close to him, I would have punched him right in the gut.
"Give us a minute," Kalif said.
"No," Aida said. "You'll come home with us now."
"And if we don't?" I asked. "Are you going to execute us?"
Aida and Mel looked at each other. If they insisted on taking us home with them, they were as much as admitting their ill intentions toward us. Kalif and I were shifters. We could disappear at any time.
Aida crossed her arms, assuming the pose of the protective mother. And as she did, I couldn't help but wonder if that had always been an act. Maybe she wanted Kalif and me together, to motivate me to stay with them.
"Fine," Aida said. "But I expect to see you both for dinner."
And they turned together and walked back to their SUV, probably to congratulate themselves on how well I had taken the news.
Sixteen
Kalif and I stood there, hands locked, until Aida and Mel got into their car and drove away. When they were ou
t of sight, I stumbled toward the edge of the grass, a cold, queasy sensation seeping over me. My body folded over, knees sinking onto the edge of the asphalt, and I vomited into a bed of weeds.
When my stomach stopped heaving, I stayed on my hands and knees. My nostrils burned with bile, and my whole body broke out in a cold sweat. My wrists and elbows shook. I knew I should be planning what I was going to do next, but for that moment, I couldn't do anything but tremble.
Kalif's hands rubbed my shoulders and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
When I was sure I could trust my knees, I stood and walked to the drinking fountain to rinse out my mouth. When I surfaced from the fountain, Kalif stood in front of me, arms hanging helplessly at his sides.
"I'm trying to think of something brilliant to say," he said. "This is all I can come up with."
I laughed, even as tears leaked into my eyes.
"I can't believe that my parents would do this," Kalif said. "I'm so sorry."
I put a hand on his shoulder. "They lied to you, too."
"Yeah," he said, "but it doesn't compare. I don't blame you if you want to split now."
I nodded. I would, without question. But not yet. "We need the data from your server. Can you still track that deleted email?"
"Yes," Kalif said. "It'll take a while, but I can do it."
"That's our best lead," I said. I hesitated. Aida had said that if we went after my parents, we were as good as dead. "Are you still going to help me with this?"
"Of course," Kalif said. "I'll do the best I can. My parents will watch me more closely, though, now that they know what we're capable of."
I fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. We had to get away from Aida and Mel. But after these last few days, running away together had all sorts of romantic connotations that I hadn't even considered yet. "I can't stay here long," I said. "Are you going to come with me?"
He kicked the edge of the water fountain with his toe. "Yeah. Of course."
And as much as I wanted to grill him about what exactly that meant for our future, this was so not the time. "We'll need to take some equipment. And the data from your server."
[A Thousand Faces 01.0] A Thousand Faces Page 16
