Changeling (29 page)

“But why kill you, Dal?”

Right. We hadn’t gotten that far yet. Had it really only
been an hour since I’d learned it myself? “Killing me was part of the kidnapper’s ransom demands. And it makes sense now, especially if Bates was involved.”

“How’s that?”

“The interview, that day at the construction site. Bates got fired over it, and he couldn’t get a decent reporting job afterward. Some people just fixate on what they decide is the source of their misery, and in his case, that source was me.” I ran my fingers through sweaty, tangled locks. “What better opportunity for revenge than when you’re already blackmailing three people with preternatural abilities?”

Noah exhaled hard through his clenched teeth. “And now she wants her boyfriend back.”

“Precisely.”

“Then why get Bates arrested in the first place?”

Good point. “Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be arrested. Maybe Dawson was just a means to an end, Bates thought it was more and got jealous, and then Pascal stepped in to protect his partner. Now she needs us to get Bates out.”

“What did we miss here?” Ethan asked. “Get Bates out of what?”

Noah filled them in on the phone call and the demand to break Alan Bates out of police custody. It only served to illustrate the theory, and that Bates was in jail for just one reason: Peter Pascal. Pascal was the one who arrested Bates for assaulting Forney and put the first kink in the plan. He started the long line of improvisation that had haunted this little epic for the last week.

Pascal had no idea what his partner had been up to behind
his back. He’d tried protecting her, and now labored in a coma for his troubles. Poor guy.

“None of this explains the pyro,” Ethan said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Noah said. “Because Dawson didn’t have powers. He wasn’t a Meta or a Recombinant, just a tutor.”

“A fourth person helping them?” Marco suggested.

“Likely,” Ethan said. “But even with all of this information, we don’t have any clearer an idea what to do next. Any step we take against Detective Forney will just put Aaron Scott in greater danger. And that’s what all of this is about, right?”

“First things first, though,” I said. “We need to keep our wounded together. This isn’t exactly a low-profile hideout. Can we get Renee to the house where we’re keeping Dr. Kinsey?”

“She is in excruciating pain,” Marco said.

“Do you have a vehicle we can move her in?” I asked again. Willingly causing Renee more pain was not my objective, but we had no choice.

“No,” King said. His grating voice rose above ours, commanding and firm. We paid attention. “No, they need real doctors. Your friend. My father.”

Noah turned, hands clenched. “They’ll arrest him, King. He’s not safe with them.”

“King’s right,” I said, slipping my hand around Noah’s wrist and squeezing. “He could die out there and leave Jimmy alone. Your dad needs to be in a hospital. Renee needs fluids and antibiotics and proper treatment, and so does Dr. Kinsey.”

Noah closed his eyes briefly. Resolve resided there when he opened them again. “What’s your plan, then?”

“We pick a new meeting place, somewhere inconspicuous,” I said. “Then call Jimmy, tell him to call an ambulance, and to run when they arrive. Meet us at the new location. We’ll do the same here. Marco can stay with Renee until help arrives, and then meet us. In the meantime, the four of us work on how exactly we’re going to spring Alan Bates from custody without looking like a bunch of criminals ourselves.”

“Is that even possible?” Noah asked.

“Which part? Springing him or not looking like criminals?”

“The second one.”

“I don’t know, but it’s going to be interesting finding out.”

“What’s our meeting place?” King asked. He had his cellular out, ready to dial and alert Jimmy of the developments.

“Pascal’s apartment?” Marco said. “I cannot imagine they will be watching it. Not with him in intensive care.”

“Could be bugged, though,” I said, thinking of our mansion. “We need someplace central and quiet.”

“I think I know a place,” Ethan said. “Totino’s Restaurant in Studio City. A friend of mine is the manager. She said they moved locations last week, but the owner still has a two-month lease on the old place, so it’s sitting empty.”

“Think Jimmy can find it?” I asked.

King nodded, fingers hitting speed dial. He put the call on speaker, for which I was grateful. Jimmy picked up on the first ring.

“It’s me,” King said. “We found the Rangers. We have a plan.”

“Good, ’cause I think Dad’s bleeding again,” Jimmy said, panic in his voice.

“We need you to do something, Jimmy. Call an ambulance.”

“What?”

“An ambulance.”

“I thought we agreed—”

“I don’t want him to die. Do you?”

Silence. Then: “No.”

“When the ambulance gets there, you need to run. Get a cab or bus or just run for it, but meet us at—”

“Hold on, someone’s at the door.”

Noah jerked toward the phone, eyebrows arching high. He looked at King, whose expressionless face seemed more pale than usual. I clutched Noah’s arm, sure he’d jump through the phone if he could.

“Who’s there, Jimmy?” King asked.

Sounds of scuffling footsteps. “Oh, it’s okay, it’s just Dahlia.”

“What?” I squawked.

Jimmy made a soft, choking noise. “Dahlia?” The thunder of snapping wood and tinkle of shattering glass were punctuated by a short scream.

“Jimmy!” King shouted, holding the phone close to his mouth. “Jimmy?” Heavy, labored breathing was the only sound coming from the phone. Then two deliberate footsteps. Boards creaked. Laughter, high-pitched and feminine. A second crunch, and the connection was gone.

“No, no, no!” Noah said. He snatched the phone from King. Redialed. Tried again to no avail. “Shit!” His arms trembled. Rage radiated in the clenching of his fists, the sweat beading on his brow, the intense snarl of his lips. I backed away, pushed by the physical intensity of it. A stack of chairs rattled, shaken by some unseen force—Noah’s power.

“We have to go,” King said. “Now.”

The cell phone rang, a shrill tone that startled Noah into dropping it. King reached out with lightning speed and snatched it inches from the ground. He looked at the display with eyes I couldn’t see, annoyingly void of expression. He pressed speaker.

“You’re changing the rules,” the filtered voice said, same as before. “So our deal has altered to reflect that. Remember the money, boys?”

“Yes,” Noah snarled.

“Double it,” the voice said. “Now you have two brothers to pay for.” Click.

King pocketed the phone, his movements stiff and mechanical—the only sign that any of this was still affecting him. Must be nice to keep your emotions so hidden. With his nonexistent face, he’d make a hell of a poker player.

“They didn’t say anything about Dr. Kinsey,” I said. “But they had to have seen him.”

“Keep with the plan,” Ethan said. “Marco will stay with Renee until an ambulance shows up. We’ll head back to your safe house and see if they left any sort of clue behind. He can meet us there.”

“It could be a trap,” Marco said.

“We’ll go in prepared,” I replied. “For anything.” Somehow the enemy—who I increasingly believed to be Liza Forney—had found Jimmy and Kinsey. Stashing them in the former residence of one of their victims had seemed smart at the time. Now it just felt incredibly dumb. Like leaving a neon street sign that said: Criminals Here! Come And Get Us!

We were going into battle without any idea of the field or the players. I was unused to such a predicament; the boys seemed likewise on edge. Noah was frozen, silent. I touched his shoulder. He looked up. Something wild and fearsome was in his eyes. He searched my face for something.

“What?” I asked. I had to know what he was thinking.

“Didn’t you hear what Jimmy said? He said you were at the door, Dahlia.”

“Yeah.” So what did—? Understanding hit like ice water, chilling me to my very core. He nodded when he realized I’d figured it out. Stricken, I turned to Ethan and Marco, who stared at me as blankly as I’d done moments ago.

Mouth dry, I swallowed several times to find my voice and say, “They have a Changeling, too.”

Twenty-four

Changeling

I
mpossible,” King said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes. Our fath—Dr. Kinsey told us only five survived the Recombinant in vitro process and were born. Our two sisters died young. He would have told us if Weatherfield had continued the Changeling research.”

“Would he have necessarily known about it?” Ethan asked. “Weatherfield is a big place.”

King grunted, folding meaty arms over his chest. “We were his project. His research. His children.”

“What about your sisters?” I asked, hoping my next question received a great big positive response. “Did you actually see them die?”

Noah and King exchanged looks, unreadable to anyone but themselves. A silent, tense moment passed before Noah shook his head. “No,” he said. “We were told they died. They never let us see their bodies. There wasn’t a funeral, because we don’t technically exist.”

“So your sisters could be alive?”

“We’d know,” King said. “We can feel each other when we’re close. We have a bond, Dahlia. Do you understand that?”

I persisted, undaunted. “You have a connection because you grew up together, King. If they know who you are, they’d be careful to stay away, right?”

“Could one of them be the pyro who attacked us?” Ethan asked. A stomach-twisting question. “Kinsey said each Changeling has a unique, additional power.”

“Our hybrid powers didn’t manifest until around age seven,” King said.

Ethan tilted his head. “But it’s possible?”

“Yes, it is.”

“So who are we looking for?” I asked. “Crooked Detective Forney and Ken Dawson, her creepy tutor accomplice? Or a pair of Changeling girls, one of whom can manipulate fire?”

“Both,” Ethan said. “If those girls are really alive, they could be anyone, including Detective Forney.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Noah said. “Even if they were alive, why do this to us? Why torture us like this when all we want is to be left alone?”

“I don’t know,” I said, determination sparking in me like red flame. “But when we catch them, remind me to ask.”

“Why wait?” Marco asked.

The question caught me off-guard. Noah tensed. I spun toward the bank of windows, alert for some sort of immediate attack from the outside. A bird flew low across the lawn, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. The ground trembled
with a slight vibration—enough to notice, and enough to fear its source.

“Marco, what—?” I turned as I spoke, but stopped mid-question. Gasped.

Marco Mendoza was gone. I knew it, even though someone bearing a striking resemblance stood in his place, arms by his sides, smiling with such amusement it seemed a cruel joke. His glowing eyes were replaced by empty whiteness. He radiated power, and the floor beneath his feet spiderwebbed.

Ethan backpedaled, taking a defensive position in front of Renee’s prone body. He stared, wide-eyed, mouth open.

I tried to move. Utter shock rooted my feet to the floor. My mind raced.

No! No no no no. Not Marco.

“For someone who calls herself a hero, you’re pretty dumb,” not-Marco said to me, his voice an amalgamation of his own and someone else’s. Someone almost female.

“At least I’m not a murderer,” I snarled, rage vibrating through my arms and legs and chest. My heart thudded hard and heavy.

“Murder is a human concept,” the Changeling said. “Our kind is above that. We have the power to make our own rules.”

“We also have the power to restrain ourselves.”

Noah took a step forward. His eyes were focused and intent. “Deuce?” he asked.

Not-Marco shifted his attention to Noah, regarding him with outright amusement. Not-Marco’s form shimmered, unfocused. Color tones changed. His body shape slimmed.
He refocused, now a young woman. Somewhere in her twenties, with short brown hair and narrow brown eyes. Pretty, but generic. Her features were not quite pronounced—lips were skin-tone, the nose a bit too flat.

“Hi there, Brother,” she said. Her voice had a similar quality to King’s, but had been sanded enough to lose the harshest edge.

Ethan roared, his battle cry preceding a blast of air that slammed into the unsuspecting Changeling. Deuce flew backward and hit the edge of a conference table with a crack. She slid to the ground and lay still while a rush of air continued to swirl around the room, coming off Ethan like waves of physical fury.

Noah rushed forward. I caught his arm and pulled him back. He couldn’t protect her now, not if she’d killed Marco. King didn’t try to interfere. He seemed the most shocked, and the least able to react quickly to learning that at least one of his supposedly dead siblings was very much alive.

Tentative steps drew Ethan forward until he stood over Deuce’s supine body. He nudged her arm with his toe. “So much for asking her why,” he said.

As if on cue, the ground vibrated. The air crackled with energy. Something deep in the belly of the earth rumbled. Groaned. The floor beneath Ethan exploded upward in a whirlwind of cement, wood, and dirt. He flew, propelled sideways, his cry cut short as he smashed through the windows in a shower of glass.

“Ethan!” I screamed.

Deuce stood, her brown eyes radiating power. She raised
one hand and a ball of earth rose up with it. The ball hovered by her side, waiting for a target. She cocked her head in Renee’s direction. “Make me kill her,” she said. “I dare you.”

I slowly drew heat from the air, but I knew it wasn’t enough to propel a good blast. I needed more fuel.

“Why are you doing this?” Noah asked. “We’re your family.”

She scoffed. “You’re not family. You share my genetic material, nothing more. You’re a job, Ace.”

“Job? Who hired you?”

“The Overseer, who else?”

Who else? Who the hell was the Overseer? Judging by the pull of Noah’s mouth and dip of his eyebrows, he didn’t know, either. I stole a look at the broken window; nothing moved outside. Desperation pulsed in my heart, constricting my throat.
Come on, Ethan, be okay.