Shifting Selves (6 page)

Carmen nodded. “Will said as much when he visited last night. Seemed to think my daughter might know something. I guess you thought the same thing. I don’t know what Brandon said or why, but Pamela’s not dating James anymore. I thought it best for the relationship to end.”

“Well,” Sera said, “it’s a good thing children always do what their parents tell them to do.” She delivered this line without a hint of sarcasm, but Carmen got the underlying message. Her gaze snapped to Sera, the one person in the world who could easily beat a cat in a staring contest.

“Nothing you’ve said so far explains why you were on my sister’s roof.” Carmen’s voice was low and menacing. She was running out of patience.

I hurried to intervene. “Someone from your house was at the lake the last time James was seen.”

Her look was contemplative, and she put the pieces together faster than I’d expected. “The clothes,” she said slowly. “I knew that cat had to be a shifter. A clever one, too. And working with an elemental? That is... unusual.” Her tone suggested she was thinking a different, less flattering adjective. “You must have read the sweat. I’ve heard of that, but never seen it. Interesting.” She studied me, her cat eyes cataloging my every physical trait, and I feared she was debating how my earlier loss of control fit into her knowledge of water elementals.

I gazed blandly back at her. I might not want to talk to my mother again this century, but I was still grateful I looked so much like her. Physically, I didn’t bear a single stamp of my fire side. Other than that brief moment when my eyes turned to flint and chaos flickered across my face, there was no reason for her to guess what I really was.

“You know a lot about elemental powers,” I said.

“I know a lot in general.” Her distracted tone kept the words from sounding arrogant. “But it wasn’t me at the lake. Thank you for sharing this information with me. May I have a day to discuss this with my daughters? I’ll inform Will if I learn anything relevant.” It was a formal request, made for the sake of politeness, and not one she expected us to refuse. We nodded, seeing no other option.

“Good.” She stood, and we began to do the same. The meeting, or whatever it was, appeared to be over. “I did not say you could leave. Diane will want words with you. You intruded on her house, after all.”

I briefly considered making a break for it, but a quick glance at Carmen’s quads convinced me I’d be caught instantly. Plus, she had claws and an extremely cunning look on her face. We sat down slowly, choosing to play this scene out.

“Of course, I am sure I could smooth things over with Diane. If...” She let her voice trail off.

“What do you want?” Sera’s question was blunt, her face annoyed.

“That shifter who visited my home. I would like to speak to him.”

I snuck a look at Sera. I wasn’t much in the habit of using my friends as bargaining chips, but neither did I fancy confronting Diane and her large gun again. “Why?”

She waved off my suspicious tone. “He’s not in any trouble, and I have no desire to hurt him. I simply want to meet this new cat in town.”

“We can’t speak for him,” I said carefully.

“You don’t need to. Simply convey the message. He’s free to make his own choices. Of course he is. He’s a cat. I only want you to give him that choice.”

It seemed a harmless enough trade, but something in her narrowed gaze caused my stomach to feel like lead. “We’ll give him the choice.”

“And strongly suggest he choose to ignore it,” Sera added.

“Fair enough.” Carmen smiled, a tight, close-lipped smile. “Then we are done here.” Without another word, she walked into the house, likely to explain why she’d freed the hostages and then to vote on next month’s book selection.

“Out of here?” I muttered.

Sera didn’t reply. She was too busy bolting for the side door. I wasted no time following, and moments later we were a few hundred feet down the road and jumping into the Mustang. She gazed around her at rows of perfect houses and even lawns, and grinned a small, evil grin. She rolled down the windows, stuck The Clash in her stereo, and cranked the volume up to eleven as we made our noisy escape from suburbia.

CHAPTER 6

We stopped for lunch at a roadside diner on our way back to Truckee. It had torn, vinyl booths from which yellow stuffing sprang exuberantly and waitresses who stopped adapting to current fashion trends in the mid 70s.

Even more importantly, it served pancakes all day long. It was the perfect palate cleanser after the sterile, controlled suburbs, and Sera and I both relaxed into our seats. A thick stack of carbohydrates dripping with fat and sugar has a magic all its own, a mystical power that allowed us to forget our cares for an hour.

While we waited for our food, I pulled water from the air. Holding it out of sight under the table, I quietly healed the bruise developing on my face, hiding all evidence of Diane’s earlier assault. I saw no reason for anyone to know just how easily Sera and I’d been rendered mostly helpless.

It wasn’t until we felt sated and finally free of all suburban cooties that we returned to thoughts of the missing shifter. Sera checked her phone, reminding me to do the same.

I’d lived ten years without any portable electronic devices, and I’d yet to settle into the modern trend of consulting them on an hourly basis. I was surprised to see I’d missed several calls while being held hostage by the world’s most insane book club hostess, most of them from Mac. “Eenie meenie miney mo,” I muttered. At Sera’s questioning eyebrow, I explained, “I’m trying to figure out who should yell at me first. Mac or Carmichael.”

“Oh, let me call Carmichael. Please.” That settled it. I called the agent directly.

“What part of ‘liaison’ requires you to climb roofs in Reno?” he said by way of greeting.

“Are you tracking us?” I did my best to sound indignant. When you have no actual defense, there’s no choice but to apologize or go on the offensive. The second option involved less groveling.

“I don’t need to. I have an alert set up for Sera’s car, and it seems that, wherever the Mustang appears, some helpful neighbor phones in a crime. Today, we had reports of reckless driving in Truckee and the aforementioned roof climbing. The second call was quickly canceled by the homeowners, by the way.”

“Of course it was. We were liaising. They realized that and opted not to have us arrested.” I sounded so reasonable. I’d become a convincing actress any day now, I was sure.

“You liaise from the roof?” Or perhaps it was still a work in progress.

“Would you believe they were slate elementals?” Sera held out her hand, demanding the phone. I swatted it away, repeatedly. “Anyway, everything’s fine. We got some information, and no one’s threatened to sue the FBI on our behalf once today. We’ll drop by the office later. Or tomorrow. Maybe the day after.”

There was a long, ominous pause. “We really need to draft a job description for you two.”

“Can’t,” I said cheerily. “Off the books, remember? Hey, Sera wants to speak with you.” He muttered several incomprehensible words that sounded less than flattering, then hung up. “Looks like he got disconnected.”

The corners of her mouth slid a fraction upward. Whatever she might say, she was enjoying the game with Carmichael. “Where now?”

Our options were limited. “Back to Carmen’s? She might still be in Reno, and Pamela ought to be home from school soon. We could talk to her before her mom tells her what she’s supposed to say.”

She nodded toward my phone. “You going to call Mac first?”

I thought of all the times he’d ignored me lately and decided turnabout was fair play. “He can wait to yell at me.” I turned off my phone, ensuring I stuck to my plan. I knew that if I saw his number on my caller ID, I wouldn’t be able to resist answering.

We drove at a casual pace back to Carmen’s home, which in Sera’s case meant only ten miles above the stated speed limit. She even allowed me to turn down her music, so we were both relaxed and at ease when we pulled to a stop outside Carmen’s behemoth of a house.

Our calm state came to a screeching halt when we saw a Bronco and an Explorer parked in the driveway. Two large bear shifters stood between them, conferring. They watched us walk toward them, their faces dark and serious.

“You should answer your phone,” said Mac by way of greeting.

I muttered some vague combination of excuse and apology.

“What’s going on?” asked Sera, studying the front of the house. From our vantage point, the house looked exactly as it did the day before.

Will answered evenly, his matter-of-fact tone a marked contrast to his cloudy expression. “It’s possible Pamela’s been missing for two days. Two nights ago, she told her mother she was staying with a human friend while that girl’s mother was out of town. That friend just called, looking for her. She had no idea Pamela was supposed to be with her.”

“What about school?” I asked.

Mac shook his head. “Not for the last two days.”

“Carmen hasn’t heard from her daughter in two days, and she’s just now getting worried?” I tried to hide my judgment of such a relaxed parenting style and failed. I was sure my overprotective mother would appreciate the irony.

“She texted, but we have no way of knowing who actually sent those.”

“Is Carmen here?” We’d lingered long enough at the diner she could have easily beaten us home, particularly if she answered her phone. I couldn’t believe we’d been Mac’s or Will’s first call.

“She’s tracking.” Will didn’t sound like he expected her to have much luck.

“Trail stops at the river?” It was an easy guess. I doubted the shifters would have requested outside involvement if it weren’t absolutely necessary. I thought of the other person who’d been with James at the lake. All signs pointed to it being Pamela. “I think I can say, with near certainty, that Pamela was running away with James two nights ago. Hell, she’s probably with him now. You’re not looking for two kidnapped kids. You’re looking for two shifters who ran off together and knew how to lay false trails and cover their own tracks. Any chance the bears and cats went all Montague and Capulet on them?” We already knew Carmen wasn’t a fan of the relationship, and I took Will’s stony expression as confirmation he felt the same. “They’re holed up together somewhere, trust me.”

I felt pretty proud of myself. Case solved. Okay, solved-ish, considering we didn’t know where they actually were. Even so, I’d figured it out. For a moment, I allowed myself to entertain the fantasy that I might be able to keep this job for longer than a week.

“Are you done?” Will’s words were even, but I still sensed waves of anger rolling off him. I took one surreptitious step back, remembering what happened to Mac the one time he nearly lost control. It wasn’t necessary. Will kept himself tightly contained, and I didn’t see even a single claw extend or an unwanted strand of hair grow on his face. “See if the other girl knows anything,” he told Mac, who nodded and turned toward the front door. Will stared at me for one long second, then nodded, appearing to come to a decision. “Follow me.”

Sera indicated she’d go with Mac, and I trailed after his uncle. He led me to the backyard, stepping carefully on the paving stones to avoid disrupting the soil. He stopped and pointed.

I followed his finger to several small dark spots. It took a moment for my brain to acknowledge what my eyes were seeing. I quickly stepped back, disregarding the evidence I might be trampling in my haste to get away from the blood congealing on the back patio. I wasn’t squeamish, not the way Vivian was. It wasn’t the blood itself that bothered me, but what it signified.

“It’s Pamela’s?” I asked from several feet away. Their noses could tell not only whose it was but when it had been spilled.

Will nodded. “It’s been here about two hours. She must have returned home after her mother left for the gym and while Dana was at school.” His hand clenched into a fist, and he closed his eyes. I suspected he was willing something to appear that he could pummel into a heap of dust. I was feeling much the same urge, and I didn’t have the muscles to do a fraction of the damage he could.

I quickly imagined several scenarios. In the first one, Pamela had been with James, but they separated for some reason. When she returned home, someone grabbed her. Maybe it was the same person who grabbed James, but the smart money, the money that knew how common domestic violence was, even among teenagers, would say she’d gotten away from an abusive boyfriend, only to have James return for her. I looked nervously at Will. I doubted he’d be willing to entertain that theory.

The other choice made no sense. Someone who lived in this house had been in the lake, and if it wasn’t Pamela, it looked like Mama Cat had a lot of questions to answer. Again, I hesitated to tell Will, fearing the bear’s version of a fair trial involved several blows to the head and bellowed demands to know where his son was. Nothing in that scenario explained why Pamela was now missing, either.

For now, it seemed like those with the least emotional investment should be handling this. How I’d become the calmest person in the room was a question for the ages, but it was the current reality.

“We’ll get her back, Will. Her and James both.” The words should have been empty. I had no idea how to find two teenagers, and no real investigative experience to rely on. But I spoke them with utter certainty. I’d seen enough bad stuff lately, seen too many innocent people lose their lives. I wasn’t going to sit by and let something else happen if I could do anything to stop it—and if James turned out to be one of the bad guys, I’d figure that out, too.

I swallowed my pride, my bravado, and my quick retorts, and looked Will directly in the eye. “How can I help?”

He met my gaze, seeming to accept my genuine offer with grace. A reluctant grace, but grace nonetheless. “My nephew will take you to the river. Maybe you’ll find something. God knows any information would be a help.”

I left Will staring at the blood, looking for answers where none existed.

I found Mac in Carmen’s immaculate living room, perched on a luxurious brown leather sofa. He was whispering quiet words to a miserable Dana, trying to offer comfort she wasn’t ready to accept.

Sera watched impassively, deep in her own thoughts. I imagined she was constructing scenarios similar to those I’d already worked up, and I could only hope she was finding more answers.

Mac looked completely out of place in that room, large and rough. His blue jeans were worn and his flannel shirt faded, and his hands, resting lightly on his muscled thighs, were strong and callused.

Yet, somehow, he made his surroundings look tasteless, wan and overdone and false when placed against the simple, warm life that pulsed from him. I wanted to walk to him and place my hands on his tense shoulders, but I had no idea if he would welcome my touch. Instead, I opted for a quiet, “Hey.”

He already knew I was there, of course. But he waited until I spoke, and turned around slowly. “Will showed you?” I nodded. There was nothing else to say. “Let’s go to the water, then.” He stood and walked slowly past me.

Mac drove us to the river, passing trees slowly regaining their leaves after the harsh winter. Snowplants and delphinium burst through the ground, their nubs of green and red and purple only hinting at the riot of color that would decorate the land in another month or two. It seemed ludicrous, such beauty and rebirth in the face of our fear and worry and, though no one wanted to say it aloud, the all too real possibility of the shifters’ deaths.

We were silent when we reached the river, the other two waiting for me to speak to the water. I only hoped it had answers. I sat on the shore and dipped my hands in the chilly water. Even in the shallows, it held none of the warmth of the springtime sun, the runoff from the mountain snow moving too quickly downstream to bother taking the time to heat itself.

It didn’t matter. My fire heritage might mean I liked to bundle up in sweaters and scarves, but water could dip near freezing and make no difference to me. It didn’t feel cold. It felt like part of me.

Unfortunately, that’s all I felt. Unlike the static lake, the river had already changed many times since Pamela had gone missing, and I felt no hint of life beyond the usual fish and plants that populated the water. There was something warm-blooded, too. A beaver, maybe. As I watched, I thought I saw a few brown heads break through the water, but they disappeared so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it.

Seeing nothing else, I shook my head at Mac and Sera. The river was a dead end.

Mac looked like he’d been expecting that news. He phoned his uncle and relayed my findings, then returned us to Carmen’s house. In our absence, someone had cleaned up the blood. Once everyone who needed to had caught the trail, I supposed there was no need to keep it. It wasn’t like anyone would be calling the local forensics team to come out and provide an analysis. The house was eerily quiet, and it appeared our welcome was at an end.

Lacking any better options, it was time to return home. Mac and Sera moved to the driver’s side of their respective cars, leaving me to choose my ride back. I took several steps toward the Mustang, certain that, based on his recent behavior, Mac had no great desire for my company.

A second later, I decided I didn’t really care. I deliberately turned around, just catching Sera’s amused expression in my peripheral vision. I pulled myself into the passenger seat of the Bronco and smiled at Mac. “I’m riding with you,” I said unnecessarily.

He held my gaze for a long moment, his brown eyes filled with complicated emotions I could barely begin to understand, then he simply nodded and turned the key.

The ride home was quiet. I’d noticed that, while Mac and Simon never protested when Sera or I played music, they never put it on themselves. The human part of them might like it, but it seemed the animal side avoided anything that interfered with their senses. And so the cab was filled with a heavy silence, only the sound of the engine and the wind rushing past the windows providing any accompaniment to the thoughts ricocheting around my brain.

I was desperately aware of his proximity, that warm body less than a foot from mine. It would be so easy to simply pick up my hand and lay it on his thigh, or to scoot across the bench seat and curl into him, resting my head in that perfect hollow between his shoulder and chest. I felt my hand lift, seemingly of its own volition, wanting to act on that impulse before my conscious mind could reason with it.