The Takeover (13 page)

“No. I didn’t see him, but I didn’t seek him out, either. The man is kind of strong-willed, and talking with him is a little like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat. I kept wanting to agree with him. It was odd.”

Keene paced the length of the room and back again. For the briefest of instants, I recalled Mari’s feelings as she looked at Keene in her memories: the rush of emotion, the thoughts of tracing his face. I knew it was her recollection, her feelings, but everything I experienced became a part of me, and I couldn’t help looking at Keene differently now. “If Carrington was there,” he said, “you have to believe it was about Ropte. Maybe he was making sure the man would fall into line.”

“Maybe they were plotting the Burklap murders and the other kidnappings,” I countered. The shock of seeing Stefan was fading, and now that I thought about it, seeing him with Ropte wasn’t surprising. Of course they would be working together.

Keene gave me a weary smile. “You’re probably right.”

Patrick reached out tentatively to me. “Better look at my memories to see if there’s more.”

I was already tiring because using my ability was like rigorous exercise, and I’d need rest to fully recuperate, but he was right to be careful, especially after this discovery. For all we knew, Stefan might be at Ropte’s tomorrow. I pulled in a deep breath, absorbing what I could from the air. Strength seeped slowly through each of my pores.

Patrick’s shield dropped, and I didn’t even have to ask him to focus. Already, I could see them walking into the party. No glimpse of Stefan. Eventually, I saw Ropte approach, saw him draw Patrick away, his grip on Patrick’s hand lingering as he gave a convincing argument for opposing term limits and for joining a “group” of Unbounded that had a better plan for the world. Patrick was right that the man had something more forceful about him than the customary Unbounded confidence.

“Wait, go back,” I said to Patrick. “What did he say there?”

Patrick’s memories rolled backward. “He said, ‘Remember how you think you are doing America a favor by teaching them to support term limits? Well, I’m telling you that limits for Unbounded are always wrong. Remember, Unbounded are not like mortals. They are superior. The group I represent has better ideas than those currently being discussed in Congress, and we want you to join us.’” Patrick laughed and shook his body as if shaking off Ropte’s influence. “That’s all I can recall him saying. But I’d forgotten about it until now. It was weird. Seriously. For a moment, I wanted . . .” A rush of air left Patrick’s lungs. “I’m not sure what I wanted. It was strange, though.”

Looking in from the outside, Patrick’s fleeting desire was clear. He’d wanted to hear more about Ropte’s mysterious “group.” Even after the year of the torture the Emporium had put him through, Patrick had looked around and wondered, for a brief second, if Ropte was right.

“Hypnosuggestion?” Ritter suggested. “They sometimes use repetition, and Ropte said ‘remember’ several times.”

Patrick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Unless charisma is an ability, I think for the most part, Ropte is like every other politician trying to convince people to back him, except maybe more well-preserved. Anyway, I’m resistant to hypnosuggestion and a lot of other coercion methods after my time in that Emporium prison.”

I discovered nothing else of importance in Patrick’s memories as he greeted or conversed with most of the two hundred people who had been at the event. Though I strained to get a glimpse of the room where Stefan had been, the one other time I managed to see the door, it was closed.

I sank back into the softness of the couch, arching a brow at Keene. “Is there anything you saw that I should know about?”

He shook his head. “I wish. I thought I was careful. However, you’re welcome to look.”

If Keene said he didn’t see anything, I didn’t believe I would get more from him. I’d trusted him with my life and would again. “We’ll look at it tomorrow,” I said. “I’m tired.”

Ritter sauntered to the couch and offered me a hand. “Let’s get some rest.” With his other hand he picked up his duffel.

I didn’t resist as he led me down a hallway, following Noah, who went on ahead after retrieving my gear from the living room where we’d first arrived. The spacious bedroom she led us to was decorated in bold hues of brown and black. A cast iron chandelier hung from a vaulted ceiling, and the lights were on low, creating a mysterious and intimate atmosphere. But it was the king-sized bed with its plush black quilt and numerous pillows that called my attention.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “It’s beautiful, Noah.”

She chuckled. “It’s one of my favorite rooms.” She left us then, promising a warm breakfast in the morning, if we were interested.

The thick carpet beckoned for bare feet, and I kicked off my shoes, burying my toes into the softness. It wasn’t the getaway Ritter and I had promised ourselves, but it was better than nothing. I’d taken three steps into the room when Ritter dropped his bag with a dangerous-sounding clunk and caught up to me, lifting me into his arms.

“Finally, we’re alone.”

“I’m tired,” I protested.

He freed my hand from my duffel strap and let it fall to the floor. “I know. That’s why I’m going to help you get ready for bed.” His voice was serious, but the slightest smiled tugged at one side of his mouth.

“I’m worried about Stefan being here,” I said. Actually, worry didn’t begin to touch what I felt. Mind-numbingly terrified, however, came close.

He set me gently on my feet next to the bed and eased off my long leather jacket. “Because of Jace.”

“What if Ropte knows? Delia might have told him the truth about me. With her dead, there’s no reason for him not to tell Stefan that it’s really Jace who’s his son.”

Ritter eased me onto the bed, his hands moving over my body to find my gun, a few knives, a vial of acid. Then he removed my boots, the ballistic knife, and my backup pistol. His hand went to the button on my jeans, opening it and peeling them off me. “Jace is a big boy. It’s time he knew.”

“Stefan loves his family.”

“He loves to
use
his family. He won’t persuade Jace.”

“Then he won’t let Jace go unless he’s in pieces.”

“He’ll have to find him first.”

Ritter stretched out next to me, his lips trailing over my neck and up to my lips. He kissed me long and deep until I moaned softly, my arms curling around him. An instant later, Ritter drew away from me, pulled off his own shirt, and tossed it onto the floor. Instead of coming back to me, he settled onto one of the pillows, yawning. His eyes closed.

“What?” I protested, now fully awake.

He cracked one eye. “You said you were tired.” Amusement spilled from the words.

I laid a finger on his chest, dragging it downward in a lazy spiral. I felt him shiver slightly beneath my touch. “I’m not tired anymore.”

With a laugh, he rolled on top of me, pinning my mouth beneath his. “Good.” The shield over his thoughts dropped, beckoning me inside where his desire raged as strongly as my own. “Because I know a great way to relieve stress.”

All thoughts of Jace and Stefan Carrington fled from my mind.

WHEN WE WOKE THE NEXT
morning, limbs entangled, not a single pillow remained on the bed. Back in San Diego we’d be getting up for our four a.m. workout, but here it was nearly seven o’clock, and I felt positively lazy.

Then I remembered Stefan Carrington and what it would mean to my brother when he knew the truth. Was Jace already in Idaho, eagerly waiting for the op to be over so we could resume our conversation? Probably.

The others were already in the dining room when we appeared. I was listening to Noah’s new song and was positive it would become a worldwide hit. I was just as positive I’d never be able to mimic her convincingly. But when channeling, I could fight like Ritter, manipulate data at least halfway as well as Stella, and shift like Mari. So why not sing? Still, it seemed more difficult than folding space or knowing how to cut down an opponent. Noah could hit notes that I didn’t know were possible for anyone. Certainly they weren’t for me; I’d tried them while Ritter was in the shower, hoping his own humming blocked out my pitiful attempts.

Stealing a piece of bacon from the mound on Mari’s plate, I cranked up the volume.

Ritter gave me a sympathetic smile that told me he guessed my uncertainty. He looked more than fine in the dark suit he wore that would help him fit into whatever situation I’d find myself in—just in case. Knowing he was my backup always gave me more confidence on these solitary ops. And it was at least partially a solitary endeavor, because while the others played decoy for the politicians, I’d be the only one exposed to immediate danger. My blood raced in anticipation. Suddenly, learning Noah’s song didn’t seem so difficult.

Of course, I couldn’t rule out the possibility a sensing Unbounded might be present at Ropte’s, so I’d need to shield any mental communication I shared with my companions. Channeling Patrick was included in that because while his shield was down, he’d be vulnerable to Emporium attack. I’d have to prevent that possibility, which meant more energy, and that’s where Keene came in—if I needed him. Because I couldn’t afford to be completely drained in case someone caught me in Ropte’s office.

Ritter, Patrick, and Mari downed more breakfast than I had the will for, chatting casually as if today were like any other. Normally, I’d join them, but lingering thoughts of my brother and his biological father made me anxious. I excused myself and went with Noah to copy her disguise.

In Noah’s private bathroom that was nearly as large as my guest room and twice as ornate, she sat in front of her lighted mirror and showed me where she added makeup and face sculpting clay. “One of my colleagues in Italy makes this for me,” she said. “Honestly, if it were on the mortal market, she’d make billions. It doesn’t crack or fade or rip, and it looks completely real.”

I couldn’t even tell where it blended into her skin. “Okay, let me give it a try.” I reached out to Patrick, who was expecting me, so his shield was down.
I’m here,
I told him.
You won’t need to do anything. You won’t even know I’m here. At the luncheon, I’ll put a shield around you when I’m using your ability. I will only need to connect with you every thirty minutes to maintain my disguise.

Patrick made a mental response, but I was already focusing on the mirror, urging the nanites in my body to recreate my face. I’d learned that changing as little as possible was easiest to maintain. So while Noah’s figure was insanely thin at the waist and her rear end prominent, we’d decided to use a flowing yellow dress she owned to mask our bodily differences and concentrate instead on my face, hair, and coloring.

“No way,” Noah murmured, staring at the mirror. “Just a little flatter on the nose. There you go. Wider bottom lip.” She shook her head as I obliged. “I knew someone took Patrick’s place for an entire year this way, but I have to admit that part of me didn’t believe someone could really not tell the difference between the fake person and one they loved. I can see I was wrong.”

I did look like Noah—or the disguise she wore in public. The tiny curls of my hair extended down my back, black but streaked with lighter shades of brown and dark blond. My skin was tinted a dark brown, and I made the nanites copy Noah’s makeup as well: yellow and browns on my eyes, glossy lips, lashes that were triple my usual length. The dress exposed more cleavage than I was used to, but it masked my body well enough that with the changes in my physical features, I had become Noah. I felt exotic and different. Like someone who could woo crowds.

“People really wear things like this?” I asked of the borrowed dress, raising my arms in a flutter of silk.

Noah grinned. “Obviously, which is why I have it. Sometimes I like to make a statement. I usually wear this with heels, but you’ll have to do with flats so you’ll be the same height.” She arose from her chair and disappeared from the bathroom, returning shortly with a pair of bright yellow sandals. “These should do. Our feet don’t look too different.” They weren’t, and I slipped them on with satisfaction.

“So, would you like to run through the song?” Noah asked.

Not in a hundred years.
“Sure, but I’m not planning on singing.”

Even her laugh was music. “That’s what I always say, but you’ll be surprised at the ways people have of convincing you.”

Noah took my hand and led me back through her bedroom to an adjoining sitting room with a computer and an elaborate sound system. “I’ll cue you in.” She handed me a cordless microphone, started the music, and after a few bars said, “Ready, set, and here we go.”

“You’ll have to drop your shield.”

“Oh, right.”

I slid into her mind, releasing Patrick. The nanites should be able to hold their own against my Unbounded metabolism for more than the thirty minutes I’d quoted Patrick, but it paid to be careful. Once a day was usually enough to tell my body not to eject the nanites all together, but changing my face was more complicated. Not for the first time, I wished I could channel more than one other ability at a time.