by Aimee Laine
“Uh-oh.” Charley rose as Stuart did. “Wait, Stuart.” She walked back into the living room.
Wyatt turned to her. “No, Charley, or whoever you are. I’ll help you find your boy. I’ll do my job. But that bastard there owes me some explanations.”
“No, Wyatt, he doesn’t,” Charley said.
Wyatt cocked his head.
“But I do,” she said.
“I’ll talk to him, Charley.” Stuart started to stand again.
“Outside.” Wyatt pivoted toward the front door and with one foot, stepped forward.
“No.” Charley’s answer hit her mark. “Stuart, sit. Wyatt? You talk to me.” She stalked through the living room as Stuart sat back down.
Lily stopped stirring, and James and Cael let her pass.
“Follow me.”
Without a word, he did.
She stepped outside, onto the front porch. Once Wyatt joined her, she closed the door with a slow and meausred control to her movements. The evening’s sun had long since set, bringing along a significant drop in temperature. She shivered, wishing for her blankets, a jacket, or something to cover her arms, though the chill came from yet another bout of nerves rather than from the cold.
Wyatt’s silence added to her anxiety, but Charley turned to face him as he stood just outside the door’s edge, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Why did you leave me?” Wyatt started the moment their eyes caught.
Straight to the heart. Charley dropped her gaze.
“Oh, now you don’t want to talk?” Wyatt threw his hands up into the air. They fell against his slacks with a thud.
Charley raised an index finger, hoping he’d give her the minute she needed. Two deep breaths later, ready to explain, she prepared to launch into the story. “You remember what happened in Montreal?”
“Yes.” He nearly spit the answer.
“The fact that I changed physical shape right in your arms?”
Wyatt nodded at her, but she caught the hesitation.
“I’m a mimic.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “It doesn’t matter. You saw. You know. I can take others’ shape.” Charley took a deep breath before she continued. “Seventeen years ago, you nearly caught me when you and Stuart were changing a flat. Sixteen years ago, I wanted to get to know you but realized you had your whole life ahead—”
“Don’t give me the ‘whole life ahead of you’ shit. I don’t give a fuck.” His eyes reflected the pain his voice projected.
“Well, since I’m a lot older than you, and have a lot more experience with life, that’s how I looked at it.” Charley turned her gaze to the tiled porch.
“How old are you?”
“Don’t you know you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age?” She drew a small smile from him as she looked back up. “Two hundred and thirty-four—almost.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows rose but he quashed further expression. “And you don’t look a day over sixty.” A small chuckled emanated from him.
Am I getting through to him? Or is it angry sarcasm?
“I opted for an exchange student so you’d know she had to leave. I agonized over doing it, though. James even gave me his blessing to go.”
“Go where?” Wyatt asked.
“With you.”
“You could have told me. You could have been honest.” His shoulders relaxed, though he stiffened again.
Charley’s frustration level ratcheted up a notch. “Are you kidding?” A small laugh flew from her. “Eighteen and in love—what did you know? You about freaked when I showed you my eyes on the dance floor. How would you have reacted if I told you I could change shape and was a couple centuries old?” She laughed again. “You’d have had me committed. Most of us don’t last this long. Gotta throw that in there.” She angled her head to him.
“What do you mean?” Wyatt frowned and shook his head. “I get that you can change shape, though I don’t understand it. Were you about to die or something?”
Charley restrained her smile. He’s interested. “When we find a match, it … changes our lives forever—literally.” Charley paused. So much to tell. How do I say this so he’ll believe me? “Anyway,” she began again. “After you and Stuart came here that night, Lily and I decided we’d make it look like we’d actually returned to New Zealand. We planned the whole airport thing, just never got on the plane. Unfortunately for me, Stuart had been pissed enough to come after Lily who’d turned into Mira to make our farce more realistic.”
“Why did Lily have to be you?”
“I can’t mimic anyone on my birthday. If I try, that is the form I’ll hold for the remainder of my life. It’s one day a year that I must be me and only me. It’s a permanent eighteen-year-old day.”
At Wyatt’s blank stare, Charley figured she should explain further. “I’m eighteen on my birthday. Every time.” She waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, mimics usually find the right mate somewhere before their hundredth year and make their final change—to live a normal life—like yours. We want to grow old, live, love, laugh, and eventually pass away. But we can only do that if our match shares a birthday with us.”
“Oh,” he said.
“I’d promised a number of people I’d walk away from you, and I knew it was the right thing. You were too young to take on what I’d need … long term. And, I do keep my promises.”
“So, you had to leave.” His tone remained dark but softened.
“Yes. Lily pretended to be me, but Stuart followed her.”
“Good ol’ Stuart.” Wyatt chuckled. “Always the man in the wrong place.”
Charley agreed, though she owed a lot of her sanity to Stuart. “Apparently, Lily didn’t do a great job in her transformation—she’s younger and not as experienced, but she was willing. So Stuart saw through it, and she had to bring him back here to explain. Since that point, he’s been a part of our secret, but he didn’t know all of it.”
“Who else knows your not-so-secret secret?”
“A number of people in the government but not just in the U.S. Most simply don’t believe it. You remember our dinner when Stuart told us all what Julie’s father said?” Charley smirked at the memory.
Wyatt nodded.
“That’s what most people who can’t believe think. For me, it’s more about being able to be anything I want. Because I’ve also been blessed with a photographic memory, I am considered one of the world’s greatest weapons, so our illustrious government keeps me on their payroll and helps keep us … under cover.”
Wyatt cocked his head.
“Stuart had no plans to join the Army.” Charley mirrored the tilt of his head. “The government takes care of us. It takes care of those who learn the truth, too.”
“Oh.” Wyatt moved to the seat next to Charley.
“When Stuart found out, he was forced into service without much explanation … only that it was for the security of the nation.”
Wyatt tilted in the other direction.
“Then, this one time, we were on separate missions. I got caught away from Cael and James. American military came in as insurgents opened fire. We fired back. I recognized Stuart, told him who I was, why I was there, and what I needed. He blinked once, since we hadn’t seen each other for a few months, and grabbed my arm. He believed me at that.”
She closed her eyes at the memory.
“A bomb or something hit the restaurant we were in shortly after. I’d never expected to be in the middle of fighting, Wyatt. I was never supposed to be—am not supposed to be. Stuart managed to get me out of there, back to the Embassy where Cael and James met me.
“I promised to explain everything to him—in detail. It took another eight weeks before we could get him out of South America. When we did, we brought him here.” Charley’s voice cracked. “After we explained everything, he begged me to tell you, but we made him promise … again.” She waved a hand as if to change her answer. “No, I did. His eyes welled, Wyatt … when I made him promise. He had
to give you up because of me.
“He’s been a part of my family since then, in a variety of ways, but it’s always … always … always been my fault that he couldn’t tell you.”
Wyatt gave her no response, his face reflected no emotion.
And I have screwed up again. She turned to the door, opened it and stepped inside.
• • •
Wyatt followed Charley back through the house to the shared office. Her revelation gave him answers and loads of questions. They also suggested a few of her kind might have been part of some of his weirder assignments. As he thought about it, a few of those made even more sense. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty.
Cael, James and Stuart formed a wall in front of a monitor, their heads rising as Charley and Wyatt walked in.
James smiled, his grin directed to Charley. “Forensics came back with some interesting information, and we just picked it up in the files.”
Wyatt bristled as if he’d touched on James’s territory when it came to Charley. He banked the emotions and the war that started within him.
“What did you find?” Charley asked.
“Sit down, and I’ll explain.” Cael turned from the monitor. “I’d like Lily here if possible, though. I think the more she hears, the more she’s aware of what’s going on, the stronger she’ll be for it.”
“I can hang with Sophie if you want,” Stuart said. When all the faces in the room turned to him, he shrugged. “What? She’s asleep. I can handle that.”
“Go, Stuart. Send Lily. And thank you.” Charley patted his shoulder as he walked by. “But nothing to lead us to our boy or understand who took him, right?” Her hand gripped the desk as if she needed its support before the answer fell into her lap.
Wyatt wanted to put his arm around her but hesitated and tucked his hand in his pocket.
“No, not yet.” James passed her a look that broadcast his disappointment in silence.
Lily walked in a few moments later, and Charley patted the seat next to hers. Pinpoints of glitter dotted her cheeks where tears had fallen again. Hands between her knees, she shivered as Cael began.
Wyatt leaned to Charley’s ear. “Can I sit between you two?”
She looked at him like he’d gone looney, but when he pointed to a shivering Lily, Charley gave him her seat. He put one arm around Lily’s shoulders and pulled her tight as Cael’s gaze grew dark and dangerous.
“Keep going,” Wyatt said. “She’s cold.”
Lily nodded her agreement, and Cael turned back to his screen of graphs, numbers and lines.
Thank the Lord.
Wyatt wanted to offer the same to Charley but didn’t know how she would react. At least with Lily, Cael’s responses consistently suggested they were a pair and anything he did would remain in the realm of friendship.
“So, this …” Cael pointed to a red line. “… indicates force. And this …” He pointed to a green one. “… direction. According to forensics, and based on Sophie’s little bit of information, it suggests the assailant was female, and the little dissection of the voice on the phone does, too.”
“How can they tell that?” Lily asked.
“By her injuries, for one. It’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand but have come to rely on these guys to help in this way,” Cael told her. “From x-rays and her semi-conscious account, plus pictures, they measure the force it took to create the breaks in our furniture, the damage in the house. In Sophie’s case, her injuries were light—but Sophie’s small, so she succumbed quickly.”
“So a woman?” Lily whispered.
“Or women,” James said. “If someone attacked Sophie thinking she was Charley, she might have known of Charley’s strength. Why they opted to keep Chase is beyond what we can find here, though, and I can’t see him going down without try—”
“He’s just a baby,” Charley’s voice took an edge toward anger but mixed with desperation. “He can’t defend himself.”
James shook his head and smirked. “He’s eight, Charley. He’s not a baby anymore.”
Charley trembled like Lily, but the chill hit Wyatt, too, despite their lack of connection. Who is Chase, really?
“He doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t been taught. He’s barely been away from us outside of Sophie.” Charley’s breath hitched.
Cael coughed under his breath.
“What?” Charley’s tone turned suspicious. She moved her hands to her lap as she stood.
“I—” Cael stopped and looked to James who nodded but rolled his eyes.
“Tell me what’s going on, right now!” She tapped a finger on the desk.
“Go ahead, Cael, tell her,” James said.
Cael heaved a sigh. “We showed him a few things.”
“You what? What did you expose him to? He’s too young, dammit, and we all agreed! Eleven at the earliest, thirteen to know, for sure.” She pounded one fist into the palm of her other hand as she berated them.
So Chase is one of them. In Montreal she’d called him her son. Her and James’s then?
“We just thought—” Cael started.
“You thought wrong.” Charley furrowed her brow, her lips pursed, nostrils flared.
Wyatt let a small laugh loose, and she turned on him.
“Have something to say to defend them? You don’t know anything about this. You get no opinion, nor options, nor ability to vocalize any thoughts.”
Wyatt raised his hands in surrender. “Okay.” He jumped in further than he should have. “But what if what they showed him … helps? Or saves him?”
The words must have hit the mark as her eyes glazed with tears. Wyatt readied himself for the onslaught of emotion.
Charley heaved a sob. “What if it doesn’t? They were after me.” She pointed to herself. “Me, Wyatt. If they know what I am, they can guess what he might be, and that alone could get him killed!” She ran from the room for the second time in the same night.
So he is Charley and James’s. Dammit.
Wyatt stood with the intent to follow but James stopped him.
“Hang on,” he said. “Give her a sec.”
Wyatt started to go again when Cael held up a hand. “Wyatt,” he said.
“What is with you guys? Don’t you know the rule? Guy runs after girl when she leaves in tears.”
“Guy in love with girl runs after girl in tears,” James said.
Either way. Do I love Charley or still love Mira or whatever? Wyatt kept his comments to himself.
“Can I just say one thing?” Cael asked.
Wyatt nodded.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For standing up for us, for helping, for being a part of this and not freaking out about what you’ve learned.”
“What do you mean?”
James and Cael turned to each other.
“We have really good hearing, comes with the ability to shift our eardrums. Anyway, we know about your conversation outside and what you’ve learned.”
“I don’t think I’ve learned much,” Wyatt said. “Most of it has come with loads of blanks. I know Charley was Mira and Stuart’s been in on it for years. You guys are very good at keeping secrets.”
“We want to have a life, too,” Lily whispered from below where Wyatt stood.
“By having a child? Does that make your life real? No one’s even acknowledged whose he is!” Wyatt’s frustration poured out before he realized the tact he’d lacked in doing so. “I’m sorry.” He waved a hand behind him. “That was poorly timed and not at all appropriate.” He ran a hand over his head, drawing in and letting out a deep breath.
“It’s okay,” Cael said.
“No, it’s not.” Wyatt sliced the air as if to cut off all disagreements. “It doesn’t matter so long as he’s safe and unharmed. I’m …” He stopped, put one hand in his pocket. “I’m going home. I’ll come back … tomorrow.”
17
As the sun rose, Wyatt hedged. The brighter the day be
came, the more time passed, the more anxiety built within him about a return to Charley’s home. A trained field agent shouldn’t have nerves, he told himself over and over, but he continued to hesitate.
He dropped into his office where Sheila briefed him on various case updates—one of which came in the form of Charley’s. Wyatt rifled through the information, but the only new piece included a photo of a smiling red-headed boy named Chase.
To Wyatt’s mind, the boy looked nothing like Charley but had a hint of James in him. Then again, as shape-shifters went, Wyatt didn’t know squat about their early years.
In an attempt to linger further, he had a very late lunch with his Mom and dawdled until he realized they’d probably be moving along on the case without him if he didn’t return soon.
On his trek back to Charley’s, his thoughts moved from their first go-round to Montreal. She’d changed since her time as Mira—but her body’s shape conformed to his hands as it had before. He’d realized that in Montreal. His mind whirled with memories during his drive up the mountain. They both stabbed him in the heart and brought joy at the same time.
How do I let her go, though? Wait. Did she say James told her to stay with me? Wyatt ran a hand over his head. Maybe they aren’t a couple? He shook his head at himself. Why am I asking myself these questions and not Charley?
Branches extended far into the road, their leaf-tipped extensions offering a fairy-tale path. He imagined a horse-drawn carriage could follow it up and around toward a manor house. The trees added a romance he’d not seen before, especially not when he drove behind Stuart along the same curves a day before.
The vibration of his cell at his hip stopped his random thoughts.
He didn’t glance at the screen. “Moreland.” His car continued to move along the two-lane road at a regular pace.
“Stay away,” a voice said.
“Who is this?” Wyatt quick-turned his cell. The readout said ‘unknown’.
“It—it doesn’t matter. This is a warning to stay away from her. For your own safety.”
Wyatt snorted. “And I’m supposed to listen to someone who doesn’t identify themselves or the person I should stay away from.”