Then she might be kidnapped, tortured, even killed. I had to prevent that—even if it meant running jobs like the one I’d just done.
I still hovered near Mom’s bed, not wanting to hand her the pills, even though I’d gone to so much trouble to get them. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” Mom said. “Just a little tired. I think I’m coming down with something.”
It took all my training to nod sympathetically. I wanted to shake her. She was coming down, all right, but not the kind that was caused by a virus.
My stomach hurt. I never felt Dad’s absence more than when I was with Mom, and I couldn’t help but hate it. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Dad would have known what to do, besides steal her the pills she insisted on risking her life for.
But Dad wasn’t here, and I was doing the best I could.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel better.” I took a deep breath and pulled the pills out of my pocket. “You probably don’t need them, but I brought you these.”
Mom’s eyes fixed on the pills. “Thanks,” she said. She snatched them from me and headed into the bathroom.
Thanks. In another life, my mother would have been horrified that I’d been in a position to steal drugs. But today, she didn’t even blink.
I tried to relax, but couldn’t. I just stared at the cracked bathroom door, listening as Mom washed her face. I shifted my body, preventing it from shrinking like a child.
Home used to be the place where I didn’t have to use my acting skills—not the place where I needed them the most.
Through the opening in the bathroom door, I could see Mom opening the bags, pouring a few pills into her hand, turning them over and examining them.
I couldn’t watch her swallow them. Instead I went into the kitchen, ripped the money pouch open, and counted out enough for rent, plus extra for groceries. There was still quite a bit left. I walked down to the rent drop and deposited the cash. I went to the store and bought us cereal and milk. And on the way home, I dropped by the gym and opened my rented locker. Stashed at the back were several disposable cell phones. I reached for a specific one, my stomach twisting, and used it to check an old email account.
And there, right where I expected it to be, was a message from Wendy Carmine—the woman who, as far as I was concerned, might as well be the devil herself.
Jory, it said, I hope you’re considering my offer. We can work with you and your mother. We don’t have to be enemies.
Bring us Mel, or information that leads to his capture, and we’ll consider you both part of our team.
The email was just as polite as the others I’d received, but no less galling. The first message came about six weeks ago through an email address I used to use when my parents and I worked with Mel and Aida—two shifters who ran a theft and espionage ring out of San Jose. That was before Mel framed my parents for his own murders and turned us in to the Carmines, who tried to have them killed for their crimes. Aida called it justice, but even if my parents had committed the murders, it would have been vigilante justice at best.
I should have abandoned all my former email addresses, but I was always watching for communication from Kalif, my boyfriend, who also had the misfortune of being Mel and Aida’s son. And, okay, maybe I’d gotten a little desperate to hear from him and was checking every contact he might use, just in case.
I wouldn’t give away our location just by checking that email. The Carmines wouldn’t know if I’d even received it. But Wendy was persistent. She’d sent one per week, each one pleading with me to bring them the man who turned in my father for his own murders.
Too bad they didn’t figure out my father was innocent before they shot him. The Carmines kidnapped my parents. They killed my dad. They cut on my mother’s face. There was no way in hell I was going to work for them.
But still, I checked the emails. They itched at me, like the bite of a persistent mosquito—one that carried a deadly, untreatable disease.
I couldn’t help but feel like I could use this offer against them, to somehow get them off my mother’s trail, for good. It felt like our best chance—maybe our only chance.
If only I could figure out how.
Two
I was most of the way home when one of my disposable phones vibrated on my hip.
I smiled. I had a lot of burner phones—I marked them for each job and tossed them as quickly as possible, to avoid leaving a trail.
But this one was special. This was the phone with the number I’d emailed Kalif at his alternate email address—the only way I was allowed to contact him. He never checked it from home, or on any device that he carried home with him. And I didn’t contact him any more than necessary. Which, lately, hadn’t been at all.
I put the phone to my ear. “Hello,” I said.
“Seizure ninjas,” Kalif said.
I smiled. In person, we used hand codes to verify each other’s identities—a necessity when your boyfriend can shift himself to look like literally anyone. One of the first things we’d done when we were separated was work out a series of codes that we could use to be sure we were actually talking to each other. We could only use each one once, in case we were overheard, so the list was long and obtuse, but we’d both memorized it and then destroyed it. Good thing we both had good memories—a professional skill.
“Illegal teenage driving,” I said back.
“Hey,” Kalif said. “I was really hoping I’d get to hear your voice today.”
I kept my voice calm, even though my pulse quickened. “Miss me?”
“Like crazy. But I promise I’m not wasting your phone without a reason.”
I wouldn’t have minded if he did—just hearing his voice on the other end was enough reason for me. But this was part of the arrangement. My mom would never trust him. She’d come unglued if she knew I’d given him any way to find us. The less contact we had, the less likely we were to get caught.
But being away from him still made me miserable.
I bounced on my toes. “Tell me you have good news.”
Kalif’s voice dropped. “No. You’re not going to like this.”
Oh. I leaned against the outside wall of the apartment. “Hit me.”
Kalif sounded strained, like he really didn’t want to say this. “My mom wants to talk to you.”
I blinked. His mother had lied to my family, set up my parents to die, and tried to cover it up and keep me in the dark. After Mel and the Carmines, she was the last person on Earth that I wanted to talk to.
Come to think of it, Kalif’s entire family pretty much filled out that list.
“What?” I said.
Kalif drew a deep breath. “I know. I swear I didn’t tell her we’d been in contact. In fact, I told her I couldn’t help her because I didn’t know how to reach you.”
Good on him. “But she didn’t believe you.”
“No. She told me not to treat her like she was stupid.”
If Aida knew Kalif knew how to find me, that made it doubly important that we cover our tracks.
Did she know that the Carmines were trying to get in touch with me? If she did, she could have emailed me directly. Unless she was trying to get at me separately so they could pull a two-man con.
I wasn’t going to fall for that crap. “You can’t lead her to me, because you don’t know where I am, right?”
Silence met me on the other end.
I sighed. Of course he did. It was against Kalif’s nature not to look. “Does your mother know where I am?”
“No,” he said. “At least, I don’t think so.” He didn’t sound as sure as I wanted him to. “If she did, she could just find you to talk to you, instead of trying to set something up through me.”
That was a fair point. “Do you know what she wants?”
“No idea.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. If Aida found us, she might turn my mom and me right over to her parents again. And even if she didn�
��t, she was still working with them. They might be able to follow her to get to us.
I cleared my throat. “If you want her off your back, you should turn it around on her. Tell her it’s her fault that you’ll never talk to me again, and she should quit rubbing it in.”
Kalif sounded regretful. “Yeah, I did. But she still didn’t believe me.”
I was quiet for a minute. “You don’t actually want me to talk to her, do you? She’s probably trying to lead your grandparents right to me.”
Kalif hesitated.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s just—she’s told me a couple of times that if I’m not careful when I contact you, my grandparents will find you and it’ll be my fault. Not like a threat. More like . . . a warning.”
I paused. That could be just a ploy to get Kalif to admit that he was in contact with me. But if that was Aida’s plan, it didn’t make a great deal of sense to suggest he should be more careful. She’d want him to make a mistake.
“What’s her game?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Kalif said. “But every time she mentions you, she’s careful about it. She never says anything at home. She makes sure we’ve changed clothes, and are in a loud, public place.”
I could read between the lines. “Your apartment is bugged. And your clothes. And your car.”
“Probably,” Kalif said. “I don’t use the internet connection there for anything I don’t want them to see, and I only call you when I’m out and changed into clothes that have never been in the house.”
“Okay,” I said. I remembered the horror on Aida’s face when she’d thought that her parents might get a hold of Kalif. For nearly seventeen years she hadn’t told them that she had a son—that’s how scared of them she was.
Now both she and Kalif were living under their thumb, in a place where their every move was being watched. And the longer I took getting Mom back on her feet, the longer Kalif stayed there, the more likely his grandparents were to pull him into their world—a place where they were so afraid of being exposed as shifters that they’d kill or threaten every shifter who wouldn’t work directly for them. I didn’t know if I was more afraid of what they might do to him, or what they might ask him to do.
Cooperating with Aida might be safer for him than fighting against her. “If I called her on a disposable, would she be able to trace my location?”
Kalif sounded surprised I was even considering it. “The best she could get is the cell tower you’re using. Especially if I’m with her—she won’t be able to start a trace without me knowing. And if you called from someplace far from home, she’d only be able to pinpoint the area of the country you’re in.” He paused. “Do you want to do this?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t like her knowing we’re in contact, and I don’t love the idea of her being able to tell so much as what country I’m in.”
“Especially since you’re still in the Bay Area.”
I sighed. “Okay, for real. How did you find me?”
Kalif sounded embarrassed. “I tracked your emails to the San Mateo Public Library. Hillsdale branch.”
My cheeks burned. Of course he would. I should have known. Better yet, I should have masked the location somehow, the way Kalif always did. But I didn’t know how to do that on a home computer, much less on a public one. Tech stuff was his half of the job.
Kalif cleared his throat nervously. “Was I not supposed to do that?”
I rolled my eyes. This was Kalif. He could no more keep himself from doing things like that than he could keep himself from breathing. “No. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend I thought of that. Do you think she knows, then?”
“Doubtful. I don’t access that email from home, and I do cover my tracks.”
I tried not to take that as a jab. If there was one thing I could trust Kalif to do, it was to handle his electronic footprint. I was much better at the in-person stuff.
I’d feel a lot safer when we could both watch each other’s backs again. And as much as I hated to admit it, whatever Aida had to say might bring us closer to being together again—more so than anything I’d been doing.
I hated that I felt so alone, I was willing to look to Aida for an out. “Don’t give her too much notice. None, if possible.”
“Okay,” Kalif said. “Don’t stay at home, though. If she manages to trace the call, you don’t want to let her know where you’re living.”
I couldn’t call from home for other reasons. There was no way I could let Mom overhear this. “Am I being stupid?” I asked. “Maybe you could just find out what she wants.”
“I tried,” Kalif said. “As much as I could without admitting I’d been in contact with you. She told me she only wants to talk to you.”
That was suspicious, wasn’t it?
Unless she wanted to send me a message she thought Kalif wouldn’t want to pass on.
If that was the case, did I want to hear it?
I sighed. There were no guarantees, but Kalif and I could take reasonable precautions. Plus, the idea of turning her down and going back up to my sparse apartment with my stoned mother and no leads on a better life felt like a death sentence.
“You can think about it,” Kalif said. “Call when you make up your mind.”
He was winding down the phone call, and while I knew that was the sensible thing to do, all I wanted was to reach out and hold him here. If I couldn’t confront my mother, and I couldn’t walk out on her, and I couldn’t go on the way things were, that left Aida.
“No,” I said. “I want to talk to her. Today, if possible.”
Kalif paused, and I waited for him to talk me out of it.
“Okay,” he said. “Give me a few hours to get her alone. I’ll call you at this number. Then you get rid of the phone.”
He’d better believe it.
“And Kalif?” I said.
“Yes?”
“Happy birthday.”
I could hear his smile through the phone. “I didn’t think you knew.”
“You’re six months and six days older than me,” I said. “It’s the kind of thing a girl remembers. Plus, there was the bit about you wanting to hear my voice today.”
“Yeah,” Kalif said, sounding sheepish. “I really need to work on being harder to read.”
For all of our sakes, I hoped he was only transparent with me.
“I love you,” he said.
And then he hung up before I could say it back.
I leaned against the building, wondering if I should just toss the phone now. If I pulled out the battery, smashed the hell out of it, then Aida wouldn’t get through. She wouldn’t track it. She wouldn’t find me or my mother.
Nothing would change.
And while I wanted to keep my mother safe, if I was honest with myself I knew she wasn’t. Not really.
But I didn’t know how to save her from this.
Instead, I hopped the train down to San Jose. When Aida tracked the call, I wanted my location to be as in her face as possible. San Mateo was close. San Jose was closer. I could slip away in an instant, changing my face, my height, my hair, my skin, my gender. But if I was going to talk to Aida, I wanted to send her a message.
Yes, Aida, I’m still here. Right under your nose. I’m not afraid of you.
Even though nothing could be further from the truth.
Three
When I got off the train in San Jose, I found a smoothie place with tables on the sidewalk and went in to use their bathroom. I didn’t change my gender or body size this time, but I lengthened my face and shifted my hair to a blue-black. When I stepped out of the stall and washed my hands, a gorgeous Korean girl stared back at me in the mirror. There was no one else in the bathroom; I thickened my eyebrows a little, and made my eyes smaller and my lips less pronounced. Beauty drew attention, and I’d overdone it.
I was overdoing it in general, just to take a phone call on a burner phone. But Aida knew every trick I did and then some. When dealing
with her, I couldn’t be too careful.
I ordered myself a peach-banana smoothie and sat down at a table outside where I could watch in both directions down the street. Sipping slowly, I fiddled with my phone. Hopefully the sugar would energize my brain. I’d need my A game to deal with Aida; she would almost certainly bring hers.
My straw slurped in the bottom of my cup as my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID—it showed a blocked number.
Heart hammering, I pressed it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Nazi Turantuadogs,” Kalif said.
I smiled. I’d been particularly proud of that one. “Sugar kisses.”
“Okay,” Kalif said. “I’m walking over to my mom now, so she’ll hear everything from here on. I’m going to put you on speaker, but we’re clean, and alone, so no one else should hear you.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You can walk away now, Kalif,” she said.
Goosebumps broke out down my arms. Just hearing Aida’s voice was enough to give me the shivers.
“No,” Kalif said back. “I’ll stay.”
Aida sighed, but she didn’t argue.
Even over the phone, I was glad he wasn’t leaving me alone with his mother.
I lowered my voice a bit, making it sound steely and cold. “Hi, Aida. Tracking the call yet?”
“I don’t need to talk to you to find you,” she said. She didn’t sound even a little bit rattled, but though I was good at voices, Aida was the best. She’d never show her hand that way.
“Really?” I asked. “So tell me, where am I?” Pushing her hard might put her on edge, and it would also let her know I wasn’t going to let her shove me around.
Besides, I never felt closer to my father than I did when I was working the way he’d taught me. Start interactions strong, he’d said. Act like you can’t be pushed around, and most people won’t test you.
Aida wasn’t most people. “If I wanted to know, I would,” she said. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jory.”
A Million Shadows Page 2
