"You can't be serious," Thomas said.
My father smiled. "I've always been serious. Lucas? I believe Paige was looking for you. She has something to share about the case."
When I went to stand, my knees seemed unable to flex, and I had to clasp the edge of the table to push myself up. Stiff-legged, I followed my father from the room.
"I'm sorry," he said as the door closed behind us.
"No need. It was a necessary maneuver. They will hound you for an answer until you give one and this will buy you the time you need to decide on an alternative course of action."
Silence. I didn't look at him. Couldn't.
"Paige does want to see you," he said after a minute. "But she's in the lab right now. As we head down, I'd like us to make a few stops. Just walk the floors. Let people see us. Reassure them."
I could scarcely afford the time, but I knew it was necessary. So I let him lead the way.
IT TOOK ALMOST an hour for us to complete the "rounds"...and that was with my father pressing forward as firmly but politely as possible. We finished in the cafeteria, where he insisted on buying lunch for me to take to Paige. That took another ten minutes, mostly dealing with more condolences, but he finally got through everyone and took me up the stairs to the executive dining room. It was empty. Not surprising. My father made it clear that he preferred the executives to dine with the employees, and few dared be caught doing otherwise.
"I really have to--" I began.
"Go. I know." He stopped at the window overlooking the cafeteria. "How many people does this office employ, Lucas?"
"Two hundred and forty-five, at last quarterly report."
"And the corporation? Excluding the sectors staffed by humans."
"Approximately four hundred and fifty."
"You know those figures without a second's pause, don't you?"
"I make it my business to know."
A slow nod. "Four hundred and fifty oppressed souls in need of rescue."
My jaw tightened. "Did you bring me up here to mock me, Father? Because I have--"
"--more important things to do."
I forced myself to look at him. "I don't see four hundred and fifty oppressed souls in need of rescue, but you know that. I see four hundred and fifty supernaturals employed by an organization that does not always have their best interests in mind."
"Because human corporations do," he murmured.
"Human corporations don't hunt down and execute former employees. Or torture those accused of corporate espionage. Or threaten the families of those suspected of espionage. Or use blackmail as a recruiting tool. Or--"
He held up a hand. "Point taken."
"Did I really need to make it?"
For a moment, he gazed out the window, watching his employees eat and talk.
"Of the Cabals, how do the Cortezes rank? In terms of 'human rights abuses'?"
"I won't answer that because you know the answer full well. To commend your standing is like praising a man who only beats his wife on Sundays."
"If this Cabal collapsed, where do you think these people would go? They're caged birds, Lucas. You don't just open the door and set them free. That would be a cruelty beyond anything you accuse us of. If the Cortez Cabal disappears, they will fly to the nearest place of shelter, to another Cabal, a worse--"
"Don't." The tray's edge dug into my thumb, and I realized I was still holding it--clutching it--and set it down. "This isn't the time--"
"No, it isn't. But it will soon be the time--"
"Carlos is alive--and probably innocent. Then there are my cousins..." I heard the desperation in my voice and cleared my throat. "There will be no need for you to make any determination for years to come."
"No? If the last few days have proven anything, it's that I don't have that time. We are going to need to talk about this."
I turned to him. "Please, Papa. Not now."
"When, Lucas? Tell me when I have to do this to you? Shatter your dreams? Make you become someone you should never have to be? Tell you it's your duty?" His voice caught. "When do I do this? Gain my heir and lose my son?"
"Not now. Please. I have--" My throat seized up and I had to force the words out. "I have to go."
HOPE
BIOLOGY IS DESTINY
Had I ever envisioned myself in this situation--taken hostage and being led to a car--I'd have foreseen my mind flying ahead at warp speed, eyes darting around, trying to find an opportunity to escape or at least to call public attention to myself.
But I just walked. Focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
Jaz strolled beside me, his arm in mine, chattering away. The gun was in his pocket. It didn't matter. The other gun--the one Sonny had for Karl--was more important. There are risks you'll take for yourself because you know that if your plan goes wrong, it'll be too late for regrets. But if you risk the lives of others and fail, you'll have a lifetime to regret it.
Jaz's plan rested on the presumption that Karl would have circled back for me rather than follow Sonny. I wasn't so sure. He could be tracking Sonny right now to our rendezvous point where he'd have a chance to--
"Here we are."
I teetered on the curb, and his hand yanked me back, jerking me from my thoughts. We were standing on a busy corner with no parking along either street.
"Where's the car?"
"There's one." He pointed at a truck zooming past. "And there's another, and another." He slanted a sidelong glance my way, as if honestly expecting me to appreciate the joke. "Oh, you mean our car. Let's see..."
He looked around, then leaned out and snapped his fingers. "Taxi."
A blue compact steered out of the line of traffic and pulled to the curb. Sonny sat in the driver's seat.
Jaz pulled open the back door. When I balked, he prodded me.
"Come on, Hope. It's a no-stopping zone."
I locked my knees and scanned the sidewalk, hoping...
"Jaz." Sonny's voice. Sharp.
"No problem, bro. Now, Hope, don't--"
He grabbed me around the waist, catching me off guard. I twisted, but he was already folding me inside. The back of my head smacked into the roof and I let out a yelp, louder than the tap warranted. No one around us even paused. A drama queen, making a big deal out of a knock on the head. And if my boyfriend seemed a bit rough? Not their business.
As I hit the seat, I scrambled around, hands balling into fists, Jaz's gun pointed at me.
"Hope. Please."
I considered my options and saw none I liked.
In the front seat, Sonny grabbed his hair and pulled it off. A wig. He tossed it onto the seat and ran his hands through his hair--dark and wavy.
The light ahead turned yellow. Sonny slowed, earning a honk from the driver behind. As we waited, he rubbed his hands over his face, brisk and hard, as if he had indeed been sleeping. I glanced at Jaz, but he was looking out the side window.
The car started forward again. Gripping the wheel were hands as dark as Jaz's. I blinked and looked out the window, expected to see the sun gone again, but it still blazed brightly.
I strained to get a look at Sonny in the mirror. For a moment, I saw nothing. Then he moved and I bit back a gasp. It looked like Jaz's face in the mirror. At the next light, he turned, and I saw that the dark eyes weren't as deep-set as Jaz's, the lips fuller, mouth not as wide, the face thinner, and somber in a way that was as "Sonny" as Jaz's infectious grin was him.
"Hope, meet Jason," Jaz said, startling me. "My little brother. He prefers Sonny, though, so you can stick with that."
Sonny raked his fingers through his hair again. "I hate it when it's this short. And I swear it feels like straw. Dye it blond. Dye it back. Can't be good."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch. It's going to be a lot shorter soon."
"Don't remind me."
Jaz looked at me. "Hair's a problem. Small changes in color, texture, length, we can manage. Otherwise, it's dye and wigs. Build is even worse. Again, smal
l changes only. Lifts, posture, clothing, it can only do so much. If a guy is five foot eight? Six foot four? Forget it. Luckily, people aren't that observant. If you're off by an inch or ten pounds, no one notices."
All this he relayed as conversationally as he'd tell me how he got to work each morning. When he finished, he eased back in his seat and scratched his jaw, gaze slanted my way, expectant.
He did it. They did. Killed them. Their gang. Their friends. And now he sat here, chattering away, same old Jaz.
As I listened to him, the bile threatened to return. I sat as still as I could, ignoring his hopeful glances.
He adjusted his seat belt. Squirmed in his seat. Tapped his fingers against his leg. Once he reached over as if to touch me, then pulled back.
He wanted me to ask questions. He wanted to tell me more. I was disappointing him.
Good.
If I could push him far enough, maybe I'd piss him off. Then the mask would crack and I'd see what lurked beneath. I knew that wasn't safe--I should be mollifying him, not thwarting him. But I couldn't help it. I needed to see the monster. I needed to stop seeing Jaz.
"Glasses?" Sonny said after a few minutes.
"Oh, right."
Jaz reached under the seat and pulled out a bag. Inside were oversized dark sunglasses with side pieces. He handed them to me.
"Put them on, please."
And what if I don't, I thought.
But common sense won out and I took the glasses. I'd play the game while I looked for my chance to escape.
No, not escape. If I ran away, we'd lose them. If they could do what I'd just seen--a supernatural power, not a trick or disguise--then they could hide anywhere, as anyone. I had to stay with them until I could get help.
I put on the glasses and the world went dark.
"WATCH YOUR STEP."
Jaz took my arm. I resisted the urge to shake him off and let him guide me up three steps. The glasses were blacked out on the inside, as effective as a blindfold.
The click of metal on metal. Keys. Or lock picks. Jaz's thumb beat a tattoo on my upper arm as we waited. I caught a whiff of garbage left in the sun too long. The pressure of Jaz's fingers on my arm warned me we were about to move, then, "Okay, one more step up."
I presumed we were at a hideout until I walked through the doorway and a wave of chaos memory hit. The crack of buckling metal, as a figure leapt onto a car hood. The stink of burning streamers. The flash of a demonic dog's head rearing up in a doorway.
"The banquet hall," I murmured.
"You're good." Excitement crept into his voice as his fingers tightened. "What do you see?"
I shook my head. He led me forward at least twenty feet.
"If I know where I am, I can take off the glasses, can't I?"
"Not yet."
He stopped. The chaos in the air seemed brittle. Tension. A moment of silence, then Jaz broke it with a small cough.
"I'll..." he began.
"Take it from here," Sonny said.
"Yeah."
Strain tightened Jaz's voice. All traces of excitement gone. Cold fingers of dread crept up my spine. I desperately sent out feelers, but I couldn't read him. I never could. It was as if his nonstop chaos vibe interfered.
"Guard the door, okay, bro?" he said. "I'll be down after I...take care of this."
Take care of it?
I wheeled, fists lashing out in the direction of his voice. One made contact. Jaz gasped. Blind, I kept turning, veering toward the door, hand flying up to wrench off the glasses--
Cold metal pressed into the base of my skull.
"Stop, Faith."
It was Sonny, his voice as cold as the gun barrel. I pictured Guy on the gurney. Heard Dr. Aberquero's voice: "Single gunshot to the base of the skull, through the central nervous system." To my shame, I let out the first note of a whimper.
He withdrew the gun. "Go with Jaz."
As Jaz led me away, I kept hearing his words: I'll take care of this. I felt myself move across the room, up the stairs, his hand on my elbow, heard his murmured directions, but none of it seemed real, as I floated, numb.
Get him away from Sonny. That was the key. Away from Sonny...
"Duck your head. It's a low opening." He chuckled. "Even for you."
The smell of stale cigarette smoke hit me and even before he tugged off my glasses I knew I was in the room where we'd waited for the heist to begin.
"Remember this?" He backed up and waved at the spy hole. "Us? Watching the party?"
He took my hand and sat cross-legged, pulling me down in front of him. My gaze ran over him, looking for the gun. I needed to know where it was before--
"Do you still have the watch I gave you?"
He had to repeat himself before I understood, and even then I didn't understand. Didn't know what possible significance it could have to this moment. I shook my head.
"That's okay. It's probably at your apartment. We'll get it when all this is over."
We'll get it? As in him and Sonny? Retrieve the valuables after he "finished this"?
"Remember when you first came to the club?" he said. "Sonny and I heard the new recruit might be an Expisco and we thought 'Oh, shit.' Definitely not good for our plans. When I went to that door, we'd already decided how we'd get rid of you. But then I opened it and...bam."
He grinned. "One split-second and everything changed. Of course, Sonny wasn't too happy, but he came around when he saw how useful you could be."
"Useful?"
He squeezed my hand, then uncrossed and recrossed his legs. "Yeah, that doesn't sound good, but that's how Sonny is. The practical one. I'm the dreamer, he's the doer. It's..." His pupils dilated and his color rose, and he looked like he had that night after the heist. Drunk on adrenaline and tequila. "I can't even begin to explain it, Hope. Sonny and me--we can do anything. And now, with you, it's only going to get better."
I should be relieved--he wasn't going to kill me--but I could only stare at him. He squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt, apologized, rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, then uncrossed and recrossed his legs again, as if he couldn't sit still. His face glowed and I swore I could see a barrage of thoughts ping-ponging around behind his eyes as he struggled to release them in some semblance of order.
Another hand squeeze, pulling himself closer with the motion. "You'll see, Hope. You'll see. And when you do..."
His eyes rolled back, pure bliss, the tip of his tongue sliding between his teeth. Even through my fear, I felt the waves of chaos rolling off him, that pure chaos, so intense that for a moment, I just wanted to let go, to share that high.
I slid back and disengaged my hand from his.
He sighed. "Yeah, I know. You're not too happy with me right now. You liked them. Hell, I liked them. Guy, Rodriguez, Tony, Max. Even Bianca wasn't so bad. But there wasn't any other way, Hope. You'll see that soon. You can't worry about other people. They'd do the same to you. You can't let anything block you from your goal."
Another shift, this time stretching his legs, letting them rest against me. "Sonny and I, we've been given a gift. To not use that gift would be wrong. You have one too--something that makes you better than any Cabal sorcerer. So why should you work for them? Grovel to them? Why should they hold all the power? Biology is destiny, Hope. It's time for you to seize your destiny."
I could only stare at him, searching his eyes for the fever of madness. What glowed from his face was the fervor of conviction. Was it the same thing?
"You killed Bianca, didn't you?" I said finally. "It was you, in the hall. You impersonated that Cabal guard--the one you claimed robbed you. You killed him and the other one, staged their homes and 'became them' to kill Bianca."
A soft sigh. "It wasn't supposed to go down like that. I leaked Guy the identity of the guard, thinking he'd take me for the break-in and I'd show them evidence to prove the Cabal was a threat. But he cut Sonny and me out. Fortunately, we had a backup plan."
"Killing Guy and imper
sonating him."
"Oh, that was always part of the plan. Had to be. It didn't work any other way."
"You were Guy that night, in your apartment. It was Sonny the first time--taking me there to point out the evidence that you'd both been kidnapped, so I'd support the story for the others. But later, when I went back, you're the one who showed up as Guy."
He smacked his open palms on his thighs, setting his whole body rocking. "Yes! You knew it."
"I didn't--"
"No, no, you didn't understand it, but you knew it. See, that's what Sonny was afraid of. When we saw you and the werewolf in the apartment--there's a camera, got it from Rodriguez with some other stuff, such a sweet kid, I really hated..."
His voice trailed off, then he smacked his palms on the floor, so hard I jumped. "Gotta be done, right? First thing you learn. You cannot hesitate. Anyway, the camera. We see you and your friend..."
Again, he faded. His gaze jumped to mine. "He's in love with you, you know. Useless, of course. He has no idea what you need. Anyway, we figured out what he was when he waltzed out as a wolf. Cool trick."
He said it with a mix of admiration and condescension, the way one might praise a child who's learned a simple magic trick.
"So we see him and you and we figured out you weren't who you said you were. Sonny thought you might be a threat. He wanted to get in there, suss out the situation, grab you or..." His fingers tapped against his knee. "Or something. I convinced him to let me go in as Guy, get you away from the werewolf and kidnap you if I had to, so you wouldn't get hurt. Sonny didn't want me doing it 'cause he thought you'd recognize me. But I knew it would be okay. You wouldn't understand what was going on, but still, I knew you'd know it was me. Deep down, you'd know."
He rubbed his hand over his mouth as if trying to wipe away his grin. His eyes danced.
"Remember that night on the building?" he said. "You understood that. What I was saying. About the Cabals. That's what I'm talking about. What all this is about."
"It wasn't Guy selling you on his theories, was it? You weren't listening to him; he was listening to you."
"Sure, but I let him pretend it was his idea." He flashed me a grin. "That's the key to working with people like Guy. The seed's already there. You just need to water it, nurture it, let them think it's all about them, their ideas and then--" He shook his head. "We can talk about that another time. We'll talk about a lot. But right now, I need a favor."
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