A Thousand Faces

by Janci Patterson

  Kalif nodded, but the pain still showed on his face. I kicked myself. These were still his parents. How would I feel if the situation were reversed?

  Would I be willing to walk away from my parents for him?

  When we returned to the house, Aida and Mel sat at the kitchen table, sipping one of his gourmet coffees. I walked right past them and down to Kalif's room; they must have figured it was time to give me space, because neither of them tried to stop me.

  When we reached Kalif's room, he closed the door behind us. No use following his mom's rules now, I supposed. They were probably always for show, anyway.

  Kalif pulled over his laptop, and an external hard drive. "We can use these to transfer the data. I'll show you which files to copy, and then I'll go talk to my parents. If we both hole up down here, they'll suspect that we're planning something."

  I was sure they suspected anyway. "Can you cover?" I asked.

  He nodded. "I may suck at impersonations, but I have plenty of practice lying to my parents."

  "What are you going to tell them?"

  "I'll just say you needed some time to think, and go over the files. My room is more secluded, plus there's the emails and things for you to look at again."

  "Okay," I said. "Thank you."

  Kalif pointed the files out to me, and then he turned and left. I closed the door, alone with his computer.

  I started by copying the email records between Kalif's parents and whoever these Asylum shifters were. Then I dumped the mission files from Kalif's computer onto the external drive. Some of the folders Kalif indicated contained files I didn't recognize—several of them programs. I dumped them all, trusting his expertise.

  As I sat there, doubt gnawed at me. Kalif had agreed to come with me, maybe too easily. If he were secretly working for his parents, this is exactly what he would do—come along to spy.

  I unearthed a flash drive from Kalif's desk drawer and pulled up the folders with the mission data and the email again. I made a second copy of those on the drive, and shoved it into my pocket. I had no real reason to suspect Kalif, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Information was my trade, and if I was going to work alone, I had to be prepared.

  When the files finished, I unplugged the external drive and stashed it and the laptop in one of Kalif's carrying cases. There was nothing left to do—at least, nothing I could think of at the moment. I sat on Kalif's stool, looking at his computer screen. I loosened my jaw, hearing it pop. My teeth ached from clenching.

  The basement door swung open again and Kalif stepped in. I took his hand and exchanged signals with him before either of us said a word. "You okay?" he asked. He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, and put a hand to his ear. His parents were listening.

  "No," I said. "But I'll live."

  He nodded. "I'm sorry about your parents." I wanted to congratulate him on sticking to things he could say sincerely, but I couldn't without breaking the act.

  "Thanks," I said.

  "I'll show you that program again. To get your mind off things."

  Kalif walked past me into the room, and then closed the door.

  "I made the copies," I said.

  "Let me see what you've got," Kalif said, unpacking the computer again. "Make sure it's everything I'll need." As he leaned over the computer, though, his shoulders shook. There was a hardness in his eyes I hadn't seen before.

  "What did they say?" I asked.

  His fingers stabbed the keyboard. "They asked me to watch you. They want me to inform them about what you find when you keep looking."

  I closed my eyes. The fact that I let that surprise me meant I still wasn't on top of my game.

  "What did you say?" I asked.

  "I told them I'd do it, because that's what they wanted to hear. But I'm not going to let them use me against you. We need to make a clean break. Otherwise, they'll find a way to get to you through me."

  I spoke slowly, trying not to sound desperate. "So that's why you're coming? Because you don't want them to use you?"

  He put a hand on my wrist, squeezing it gently. "That," he said, "and I can't stand the idea of letting you go alone."

  I could have melted through the floor. He was still facing the computer, but I grabbed him around the waist in a sideways hug, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  Despite himself, Kalif laughed.

  I bit my tongue, squeezing him tighter, trying to convince myself I'd never have to let go. I couldn't begin to imagine what life would look like after this, but I was certain Kalif's parents wouldn't welcome me back in any case, and I couldn't imagine my parents would be happy to have him come along with us.

  Bringing him with me only prolonged the inevitable. But I was going to cling to every moment I could get.

  I spent the rest of the evening in my office room, wishing I had a square foot of carpet on which to pace. We'd decided it would be easiest to leave after Aida and Mel went to bed, as usual. We couldn't take Mom and Dad's car this time—it'd be too easy to trace—so I used Kalif's laptop to look up local bus routes. Most of the buses shut down late at night, but there was one night bus that would stop a few blocks away. We'd take that downtown, to a stop near a hotel.

  I tried not to think about the reality of staying in a hotel with Kalif, but of course that was all I could think about. My mind kept wandering to the way his hands felt on my back, that night we'd spent in his bed. Then thoughts of my parents cut through. In my mind, I saw them locked in dank cells, separated, starved, tortured. Waiting, praying I'd come for them. And all the while I was thinking about spending the night with a boy I'd been dating for less than a week.

  I lay on my back on my mattress and crossed my arms over my eyes. I wished Kalif was next to me, even then. Thinking about him was infinitely preferable to thinking about what my parents were going through.

  I met Kalif downstairs half an hour after I heard Aida and Mel's door close. He was waiting on his own stairs, wearing a black hoodie that he could easily pull over his face. He tossed me another hoodie—this one brown. They were plain, so Aida and Mel wouldn't necessarily recognize them from the communal wardrobe, but they'd also give us quick cover if we needed to shift on the fly. He took my hand, passing me his signal.

  "Are you ready?" I whispered.

  Kalif nodded. "I grabbed a few more files, just in case."

  I listened for movement upstairs, but all was quiet. "Your parents will be expecting us to slip out, won't they?"

  He shrugged. "Maybe. But I told them that you were too scared to run off on your own, and when I told you I wouldn't go with you, you decided it was best to stay here."

  It was a good cover. "How'd they take that?"

  He gave me a grim smile. "Oh, you know. They couldn't be prouder of me for selling you out."

  I cringed. "I'm sorry," I said. This whole thing was getting to be as painful for him as it was for me, which wasn't what I wanted at all.

  Kalif shook his head, resigned. "It's okay. Just makes this easier."

  I looked at the bags in his hands. "Do we have everything we'll need?"

  Kalif nodded. "I think so. I knew where Dad kept the emergency cash, so we'll have enough to get someplace to stay, and anything else we've forgotten."

  I looked nervously up the stairs. I was sure there were more things here we were going to want, but most things we'd be able to acquire elsewhere if we needed to, one way or another. "Let's go."

  We slipped out the front door and walked quickly away. When we hit the main street, I looked back over my shoulder. The windows to Kalif's townhome were still dark.

  "Bus stop is this way," I said. "You have change?"

  "Got it," Kalif said.

  We strode down the street and took shelter inside the bus stop, tucking our bags far under the bench and pulling our hoodies over our faces to get ourselves into character. Kalif shortened his hair to a buzz cut and rounded his face out. In the streetlights, I couldn't tell exactly how much he changed hi
s skin tone, but with his dark hair and changed features, he looked Hispanic. I changed my hair and skin tone to match. A pair of Mexican teenagers would fit in as well as anybody on the San Jose streets.

  We'd been waiting about four minutes when Mel's car rounded the corner. "Don't look," Kalif said, pulling at his hoodie. "Act like it's just another car."

  "I won't look," I said, "if you won't fidget."

  Kalif glued both his hands to the bench.

  The car drove slowly toward the bus stop. I didn't look, but I knew Mel must be scrutinizing us. The car moved slower and slower, until it came to a stop in front of the bench.

  Kalif turned toward the car, and Mel rolled down the passenger side window.

  Kalif wrapped his arm tight around my waist, holding me protectively.

  "Hey," Mel said, leaning across the seat. "You see two kids out here?"

  "Little kids?" I asked, making sure my voice was higher than normal. "It's kind of late."

  Mel sneered at me. "Not little kids," Mel said. "About your age."

  Yeah. We really needed a new shtick. "Oh," I said. "Why didn't you say so?"

  He frowned. "I did."

  I sighed. Mel was watching us now, judging our reactions, hoping if it was us we would slip up and act like ourselves. This was my department. I needed to think of something to say that would get him to leave, even though there was no way I could prove to him that we weren't exactly the people he was looking for.

  Kalif beat me to it. He stood up, squaring his shoulders at Mel. He did a much better impression of a territorial silverback than Mel had. "Get lost," Kalif said. Then he swore at Mel and spit in the direction of the car. It all would have been too much if his posture hadn't been so very unlike the real Kalif. It was the dead wrong thing to do if we were facing down cops or security guards, but I didn't imagine Mel wanted to pick a fight on the street tonight.

  Mel considered Kalif dryly for a moment, and then rolled up the window and moved on.

  "Wow," I said. "I didn't think you had it in you."

  Kalif watched Mel's car roll slowly up the street. "Neither does he. That was the idea."

  "He's always talking you up," I said. "You really think he'll underestimate you now?"

  "It's just a cover," Kalif said, "for how disappointed he is that I'm not as good a shifter as you are."

  I gave him a look. "No way."

  "Yes. That's why it needed to be me who convinced him to go away. Plays into his idea that I can't function in the field."

  "Technically," I said, "I could have been the guy, and you could have been the girl."

  "Yeah, but Dad knows I can't turn into a convincing woman, so he won't be expecting that."

  I smacked him on the shoulder. "You function in the field just fine."

  "Sure. As long as you're there to nudge me when I mess up."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well. It would be smarter for us to quit turning into a teenage couple."

  Kalif laughed. "You're right," Kalif said. "Two fat guys would be less predictable."

  I elbowed his ribs. "We should have brought bigger clothes."

  As the bus arrived, I wished I hadn't made my hair quite so coarse. My new bangs hung in my face, causing my forehead to itch. We climbed aboard, and the bus driver barely glanced at us as we fed our money into his machine. I sat against a bench, facing Kalif. He stared listlessly out the window, as if he wasn't nervous at all, and I leaned back, too. I had to relax. This new persona shouldn't have a care in the world. Cares drew attention.

  Kalif got up to leave the bus a few blocks from downtown, and I followed. Once the bus pulled away, I tugged my hoodie down over my forehead and fixed my hair, making it less thick and stretching it long enough to tuck behind my ears.

  "You know where we're going?" I asked.

  "There's a motel on the next block," Kalif said. "It's not nice, but it's something."

  Blood pounded in my ears. The reality of what we were doing started to set in. I was running away. To a seedy motel. With Kalif.

  But if Kalif was nervous about it, his persona didn't show it. He just plodded forward like he could take it all in stride. He walked with his shoulders slumped forward, which didn't look like his normal walk at all. I was proud.

  Kalif made himself look a bit older when he went into the motel office alone. I hung out in the parking lot. Persona or no, I didn't want to deal with snide looks from the motel clerk.

  Kalif re-emerged a few minutes later with two room cards and a number. "I reserved the room for one night. We should probably move every day."

  I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them from fidgeting. "Good thinking," I said. I needed to get my head in the game, and think of these things myself.

  I followed Kalif to our room—a double bed on the ground floor. I stepped in, looking anywhere but the bed, trying not to wonder if he'd gotten one bed on purpose, or if that's all they had available.

  Kalif locked the door, and I pulled the heavy drapes shut. In the darkness, my body melted back into my normal self. The room was dark except for the line of yellow from the street lights showing at the top of the curtains. And even though he didn't touch me, my whole body was aware of Kalif, standing just a few feet away, lowering his bags to the floor.

  We could fumble awkwardly around it, or get straight to the point. I wasn't going to be able to focus on the search for my parents without some sleep—and without getting his nearness out of my head.

  Kalif ran his hand along the wall, searching for the light. I caught his wrist before he found it.

  The curtains behind me stirred, and a thin line of golden light cut across his face. He'd also shifted back into himself, and his dark eyes watched me as he stepped closer.

  My hands were shaking. I stepped toward him, and Kalif folded me into his arms. I leaned against him, pressing my face against his shirt, feeling his body against mine.

  "No one is going to find us here," he said into my ear.

  His warm breath sent shivers down my spine. "I know," I said. "I just feel like I'm made out of eggshell. If someone squeezes me too hard, I'll break."

  He rested his chin on the top of my head. "You're going to feel like that until we find your parents."

  "Maybe. But I'm not sure even that can fix it." Once we found them, I'd have them back, but he'd be gone.

  Kalif reached down for his bag. "I'll track that email. Pull out those files on your parents. You'll feel better once we get to work."

  I caught his arm, pulling it back around me. I didn't want to think anymore. I just wanted to forget. Our mouths crashed together. Kalif kissed me back, but when his arm rose, it wedged between us instead of wrapping around me. He pushed on my shoulder, leveraging us apart.

  "Hey," he said. "I didn't come along to take advantage of you again."

  I stood on my tiptoes, lengthening my legs so I could bring our eyes even. "Maybe it's a perk."

  His face grew serious.

  I kicked myself. That was clearly the wrong thing to say. "I was joking."

  He dropped his arms. "No, you meant it."

  I took a step toward him, but he backed away. "Look," I said. "It's not taking advantage if I want to, is it?"

  Kalif looked up at the ceiling. The light from the top of the curtains lit his face from above. "You're stressed," he said. "This isn't about us."

  I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn't. I squinted at him in the darkness. "Is that a problem?"

  He sighed. "It is for me."

  I could feel him slipping away from me with every word. I dug my fingernails into my palms. I was ruining everything.

  Tears threatened my eyes, and I squeezed them closed. I wasn't going to start bawling this time. Not again. "This isn't how I wanted things to be," I said quietly.

  Kalif edged toward the light switch. "Me, either," Kalif said. "And I keep thinking that if I screw this up, things between us will never be the way I want them to be."

  I wanted to sink throug
h the floor. He was right. So why did it still feel like a rejection? "Do you mean that?" I asked. "Or are you just blowing me off?"

  Kalif leaned back against the door and moaned. "I wish I didn't mean it. You are really stretching the limits of my dedication to being a responsible boyfriend."

  My heart double-beat. That was the first time either of us had used that word. "Are you?" I asked.

  He looked at me miserably. "What? Responsible? Dedicated?"

  "Boyfriend?"

  He gave a rueful laugh. "Oh, that. No, I thought I'd run away with you and then break up immediately."

  I sighed. "When you put it that way," I said, "I wonder when I got so needy."

  He knocked his head back against the door. "Maybe when your parents were kidnapped and then you had to run away, leaving everything behind."

  Everything. I hadn't given a second thought for any of my personal things. That was my training in action; we always had to be ready to drop and run. Things weren't important. But my parents? Kalif? They were. "Thanks for making me sound like I'm not crazy."

  He shrugged. "You're not. But I don't want fear to be the only reason we're together."

  "It isn't," I said.

  He stepped toward me and put a hand on my arm. I wasn't sure whether he wanted to touch me, or hold me at arm's length.

  Probably both.

  "I believe you," he said. "So let's not rush it, okay?"

  I flopped onto the bed. "Responsibility must be your second superpower. You're in a dark hotel room with a girl who can be anything you want, and you turn that down?" I couldn't deliver the whole line with a straight face. There was just enough light for me to see Kalif glaring at me as I fell back onto the bed in giggles. It was probably inappropriate, what with my parents being kidnapped, and his being traitors, and mine being accused of murder, but once I got going, I couldn't stop, like all the stress crawled up inside my ribs and wriggled every time I tried to breathe.

  Kalif tried valiantly not to smile. He stood over me for a moment, and then tackled me, rolling me over. We landed with his arms tangled around me, his body spooning me from behind.

  "For the record," he said in my ear, "I don't want you to be anyone but you."