Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera (70 page)

“Has anyone tried reaching Agent McNally?”

Ethan shook his head. “We’re not bringing her into this, not this time.” His attention turned to Noah. “Where are the rest of your people?”

“In a safe place,” Noah said. “And I want them to stay there.”

“Fair enough.”

This was it. Our fighting force. Five minds to come up with a plan to save Aaron, catch the kidnapper, and stop a pyro. No more clues. No leads.

No problem.

“Did you ever get that name?” I asked.

Ethan tilted his head to the side. “What name?” His eyes widened. “Oh, you mean the name of the guy with whom Forney was supposedly cheating on Bates? Name’s Ken Dawson.”

“What?” King and Noah said in tandem.

I gravitated across the room toward Ethan and Marco, a completely subconscious action I didn’t comprehend until I was standing there, watching Noah and King look at each other. Only Noah had a readable expression, and I didn’t like what I saw there—recognition.

“Who’s Ken Dawson?” I asked. Noah looked at the floor, his hands, the ceiling, everywhere but at me. The niggle of worry planted in my stomach. “So much for no more secrets, huh?”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting mine. Seething and angry. “I’m not keeping anything from you,” he said. “Ken Dawson was one of our tutors at Weatherfield. He taught us for four or five years, back when we were still kids. He was reassigned.
We saw him around the complex a few times over the years, but had no actual contact.”

His glare deepened the lines around his eyes, and I regretted my initial reaction. Distrust came too easily nowadays, no matter how much faith he continued to have in me.

“He had a connection to Weatherfield,” Ethan said. “Which means Forney has a connection to you and your project.”

“It’s a stretch,” I said. “What could she possibly gain by teaming up with Ken Dawson and putting Bates in jail?” The logical response came as I asked those questions, and I ended up giving myself the proper answers: “Except for a huge wad of ransom money, and a problem boyfriend behind bars.”

No one refuted the theory.

“Dawson would have known about our existence, but not our escape,” Noah said. “No one knew. Our father was very careful in planning it.”

“Someone found out,” Ethan said. “Either Dawson or someone who passed it along to Dawson. They knew you escaped, got wind of your plan, and got to Aaron Scott before you could. Dawson and Forney have to be working together on this. Why else interrupt the meeting this morning, put Pascal in a coma, then get Gage arrested?”

“They’re trying to keep us off-balance,” I said. “Everything in their plan started to unravel when King didn’t kill me the afternoon of the warehouse fire. They’ve been improvising, just like us.”

“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.