A Thousand Faces Read online

  I held my breath while the phone rang, but Mr. Cambrian didn't answer. If Mom and Dad didn't even make it to the job, he was probably at work, going about his normal day. If they had, he might be in the process of being fired, and therefore screening his calls.

  Nick Delacruz didn't answer his cell phone either, but I had a second phone number for him—a home phone. That one rang three times, and then a woman answered.

  "Hello?" she said.

  I checked over the profile. This would probably be his wife, Roseanne, lover of chick flicks. Since I was starting with a woman, I kept my female voice, but made it a bit deeper and smoother, to sound older and more sophisticated.

  "Hello," I said. I let my insecurity bleed into my voice, to put her at ease. "I'm not sure if I have the right number. I'm looking for the Nick Delacruz who's under investigation for data theft?"

  I closed my eyes, waiting through the long pause. It was only eleven AM. Even if my parents had succeeded in framing Nick, she might not even know yet.

  She paused for long enough that I could tell she knew something. "Who is this?" she asked finally.

  I shifted my voice a little deeper, rattling off the next part like I'd said it a million times. "This is Eva Long. I'm a lawyer with Goodman and Finch." I jotted down the names on the back of an envelope as I made them up. I didn't want to put them in the digital file, where Mel or Aida might look and see that I'd been poking around.

  Roseanne sounded reserved, like she was bracing for bad news. "Maybe I should let you talk to Nick."

  "I'd love to talk to him," I said. "Is he home?"

  "Hang on."

  I stood up, pacing at the foot of my parents' bed. He was home in the middle of the day. Unless he was ill, something must have happened.

  A moment later, Nick's voice was on the line. "Who is this?"

  "This is Eva Long with Goodman and Finch," I said again. "I'm not sure if I'm talking to the right Nick Delacruz, but if I am, I was told you might need representation."

  Nick sounded defensive. "Where'd you get this number?"

  I let my own voice sound unsure again, to undermine his defenses. "The phone book," I said. "Hence the uncertainty." I was glad I wasn't having this conversation in person. Mom or Dad would have phrased all of this better.

  Nick paused. "Where'd you get my name?"

  I was clearly going to have to give some information before I got any in return. "A friend who works at Eravision gave me the tip. You understand I can't tell you who—he took a chance even telling me, but he was concerned. Have you been contacted today about an investigation for data theft?"

  "Is that what's going on over there?" Nick asked. "They think I stole something?"

  I paused, grinding my heels into the carpet. I couldn't answer that question without knowing exactly what my parents had done. "Why don't you start from the beginning? Tell me what's happened." That was a gamble. Nick had no reason to trust me, but sometimes when people are scared or angry, they'll spill things they shouldn't.

  Nick hesitated, and I closed my eyes, sure I was going to lose him. When he spoke, his voice was low. "My boss called this morning and wanted to know if I was okay."

  My hands went clammy. I sank onto the end of Mom and Dad's bed. "Why would he do that?" I asked.

  "You tell me," he said. "That's not the first question I'd ask if I thought someone stole from me."

  I had to keep tight control over my vocal cords, to keep my fear from seeping into my voice. "That does seem odd," I said. "Did he say anything else?"

  "He asked me what happened at work last night. I told him I was home all night, and he just kept asking if I was sure. He asked me three times, and finally I asked him what the hell was going on."

  "And?"

  "And then he told me to just stay put, and he'd be in touch. And now you call me, telling me I'm under suspicion for data theft. What the hell is going on?"

  Whatever Nick's boss knew, it was enough to make him worry about Nick's safety. He wouldn't have called if he thought he had Nick in custody, which meant he was probably looking at video evidence. If he had video of something happening to Nick, but Nick was fine and said he wasn't there, the boss would have to explain that to himself. Someone might have come in dressed as Nick, or wearing makeup, or used CG on the video. In the digital age, people didn't recognize the supernatural, even when it was staring them in the face.

  But none of that explained why my parents hadn't come home. "I wasn't told much," I said. "Just that you might be facing legal troubles, and could use someone good on your side. Do you have a lawyer?"

  "No," he said. "I didn't know I needed one."

  "If there's anything else you can tell me—"

  "That's all I know," he said. "You're a lawyer. Aren't you supposed to be helping me?"

  I bit my lip. Nick was starting to get defensive again, which meant it was time to make my exit. "There's not a lot I can do for you until your work contacts you again. Why don't you call me if they ask to interview you, or if they decide to pursue disciplinary action. I can sit with you for questioning, or help you put together your wrongful termination suit."

  Now Nick got sarcastic. "For a fee, of course."

  I had no idea what lawyers charged. "We can talk about a retainer if you find you need me. Can I give you my number?"

  He sighed. "Why not? Let me get something to write it down on."

  I gave Nick the number of the disposable, and made a note of it in the file. As soon as I got off the phone, I changed the voicemail message on that phone to Goodman and Finch. Nick would probably check the internet and discover that the firm didn't—as far as I knew—exist. If I wanted to keep up the charade, I could have Kalif set up a dummy website, but I didn't think I would need this contact again. Still, it didn't hurt to have a contingency set up, in case it became useful later.

  My hands shook as I hung up the phone. I sat there, waiting to stand until my head stopped spinning. Unless there was some large coincidence at play, Mom and Dad must have shown up for the job last night as planned. But Nick's boss had seen something—probably in the security footage—that made him call Nick in a panic, asking if he was okay. But whatever he'd seen had happened not to Nick, but to someone who looked exactly like him.

  My mother.

  I sat on the end of my parents' bed, wishing I could ask them what to do. They'd see things I'd overlooked, and I trusted them to be more thorough than Mel or Aida.

  I looked down at the cell phone. I couldn't ask them. I was on my own.

  I shifted my jaw and forehead to look older, more determined, then I walked over to look in the bathroom mirror.

  See it, then be it. That was our motto. I wasn't really alone in this. Mom and Dad would be fighting as hard as they could to get back to me.

  I hoped it was them that we were all relying on, and not me.

  Aida met me at the door when I returned, and checked my hand. "I heard from Mel," she said. "The security department at Eravision is running around like the sky is falling."

  My knees went weak. "Something bad happened."

  "Not necessarily," Aida said, slowly. "If your parents finished the job successfully, this is exactly what we'd expect to see."

  Crap. Of course it was. If I wanted to work in secret, I had to anticipate things like that.

  Aida went on. "Mel says they definitely started the job, but he can't tell if they successfully finished it. If someone did intercept your parents, it's possible they've already discovered that there are shifters involved, so he needs to be extra careful."

  What I'd done certainly didn't qualify as extra careful. "So he'll go in tonight, then?" I asked. "After everyone leaves?"

  Aida shook her head. "We agreed he's going to hang back for now. Keep an eye on things from a distance."

  Great. That was sure to turn up nothing. Mel was so worried about being caught himself, he would leave my parents completely out to dry. "Let me know what you find," I said. And then I walked slowly
down the stairs, trying not to carry myself like a girl with a plan.

  I found Kalif in the same place I'd left him, sitting in front of his computer. I shut the door behind me.

  "Did you find anything in the emails?" I asked.

  Kalif shook his head. "I got in. Your parents hadn't added any encryption beyond what I set up. But there's nothing unusual, and nothing since last night. Did you have any luck?"

  "Not exactly," I said. "But Nick Delacruz told me that his boss called him in a panic, wanting to know if he was okay."

  Kalif's eyes widened. "Really?"

  I sank onto the stool next to him. For some reason, watching Kalif be alarmed made the situation feel more real. "Yeah. And then his boss asked him three times if he was sure he wasn't in the building last night, and ended by telling him not to come in to work."

  "How'd you get Nick to tell you all that?"

  "I pretended to be a lawyer offering to represent him."

  Kalif looked impressed. "Clever. I hope my dad doesn't think of the same thing."

  "If he does, he'll just be the second ambulance chaser. Also, unoriginal."

  Kalif smiled.

  "I just saw your mom. Your dad found out that my parents started the job, but he isn't looking any deeper because he claims it'll be too dangerous."

  "They do have a point," Kalif said. "Since we don't know what form your parents will be in, it's hard for us to know how to help them while being sure we won't make their situation more complicated."

  I let my face twitch, to show my annoyance. "Sure, but are they worried about protecting my parents, or themselves?"

  Kalif stared at his hands.

  Ouch. These were his parents I was talking about. If I wanted to send negative signals his way, this was one way to do it. But I needed Kalif's help. Insulting his family wasn't a good way to get it.

  Instead, I put a hand on his knee, trying to keep it casual and light. "I need your help," I said. "I need to get in there and see whatever Nick's boss saw."

  Kalif stared down at my hand, but he didn't physically react. I wondered if he had his own body locked down as hard as I had mine. To avoid betraying, what? Annoyance? Embarrassment? Disgust?

  "You can't go in there now," Kalif said. "Even if we could get away from my mom, my Dad is there, watching everyone. One slip and he'd catch you. Besides, everyone at Eravision will be on high alert as well, since there's been a security event. It's not safe."

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. That was the ironic part of security; everyone was most vigilant right after something went wrong. I leaned toward him. "I'll go in tonight, then," I said. "Once everyone's left the office."

  Kalif gave me a look, and I withdrew my hand from his knee. If he wanted to, he could tell his mother what I was planning. I had to keep him on my side. "It'll drive me crazy not to know," I said. "Will you help me, please?"

  Kalif rolled his eyes. "You don't have to use those tricks on me."

  I straightened. "What?"

  He waved a hand at my body. "That thing you're doing. You don't need to. You were already gorgeous."

  All the blood drained from my face, and I corrected my skin quickly to its natural color. I could feel my stomach letting out a little from where I'd tightened it in, my body relaxing out of the exaggerated hourglass shape. My eyes contracted, my lips drained a little of color. I hadn't realized I'd been using my body against him, but now that he called me on it, I stammered a little.

  He thought I was gorgeous? I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that, but in this case I figured it wasn't "thank you."

  "Sorry," I said, when I finally got full words out. "Too much training, I guess."

  Kalif looked like he was covering a laugh.

  I wanted to disappear. "Don't make fun of me. I'm really scared."

  He gave me a half smile, his one cheek dimpling. "I know. But just talk to me straight, okay?"

  I leaned back, careful to keep my body from contorting suggestively. It was harder than I'd imagined to curb that impulse. Even regular people changed themselves—their posture, their expression, their stance—to manipulate the people around them without even realizing they were doing it. The changes in my body were subtle, but the overall effect made me much more adept at the rhetoric of appearance than a normal person could be. Dad would have been proud that my training was so well ingrained, but he would also agree that this was so not the time. "Okay. So will you help me?"

  "Yeah," he said. "It's impossible to say no to you."

  I couldn't breathe. "Since when?"

  "Um," he said, "since it's obvious you're going to do this whether I help you or not."

  My whole body shrunk. No. Now I wanted to disappear. "Oh," I mumbled. "Well, thanks."

  He gave me an exasperated smile. "Don't thank me yet. Let's hear your plan."

  Five

  The important thing when presenting the plan to Kalif—besides controlling my subconscious wiles—was not to sound like I was making it up on the fly. "I can go in as Mom's employee persona," I said. "Her name was Andrea." She'd been working there for weeks, and we had key cards for her identity. "Mom was wearing Nick Delacruz's body when she went in. She didn't have Andrea's clothes with her, so the odds of her using that one at this moment are slim."

  "That could work," Kalif said. "What'll you do once you're inside?"

  My mind raced. "I'll look at the security recordings, and leave. It's just in and out. I can do this. And it'll be safer if I have you to watch my back."

  Kalif ignored the implication that he should come with me. "Okay," he said. "Let's see how well you can fit into your mother's clothes."

  He switched his monitor back on. Over his shoulder, I could see he'd been looking at a message board for shifter conspiracies.

  "What's that?" I asked. "Something to do with my parents?"

  "No," Kalif said. "I finished with the email before you got back. I was just baiting the nuts. They're hilarious."

  I leaned in to read the posts over his shoulder. Even if there was only one of us for every million people on earth, that still added up to several thousand shifters in total. That meant that some normal people knew about us, and some of those people thought the best way to tell the world about it was to use the internet. Those people always looked crazy, so they weren't a threat to us.

  Eravision, on the other hand—if they'd caught themselves a pair of shifters, and knew what they had, they might turn my parents over to any number of scary government organizations. Considering what the NSA did to regular people, I didn't think they'd hesitate to torture and dissect a shifter.

  Kalif looked up at me. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I said quietly. "I'm just running scenarios." But as I became aware of my body, I knew the lie was obvious. My muscles were all tightening, becoming more wiry. My eyes had enlarged, preparing to take in more of my surroundings. This wasn't training. My body was preparing for primal fight-or-flight.

  Kalif leaned closer. "If you're going to do this job, you need to calm down and concentrate."

  His face was just inches from mine, and even as I relaxed my muscles, trying to get control over my body, I saw his eyes drop down to my lips.

  I stood up straight, rolling my shoulders. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been such a mess. "Sorry," I said. "Let's get to work."

  Kalif pulled up the files with my mom's persona record—the pictures and voice recordings she made to practice her new employee cover until she could do it flawlessly every time. Now I had to do it just as perfectly, without as much practice.

  I studied the record. Andrea Lyman had frizzy brown hair cut in a sort of mushroom over her head. The idea of the persona was to blend in, so she wasn't pretty, and wore thick glasses. I could retrieve those later from Mom's closet. Since Mom had been working twenty-five hours a week at Eravision, she had Andrea's wardrobe handy, instead of stashed with our other costumes.

  Kalif set the three-sixty view of the persona spinning, a
nd I began to change, starting with the face. I slimmed down my nose and narrowed my cheeks a bit, then raised my forehead and hairline until my face looked long and gaunt. My chin I widened, and then stretched my spine so that my neck and head would make up a slightly larger proportion of my total height.

  I turned my head back and forth, making adjustments to my bone structure near the temples, and the cartilage on the bridge of my nose. My home nose was small and stout, but Andrea's was something of a beak. It would be an effort to remember all the changes there.

  Kalif switched on his web cam and opened a window for it, so I could see Mom's image and mine side by side. I added a deposit of fat on the sides of my jaw, evening out Andrea's angular face. Other than that, I'd done well on the first try.

  "What do you think?" I asked.

  "She's five-nine," Kalif said, looking from the computer to me.

  My home body was five-six, just like Mom, so I had a couple more inches to go. The face was the most important part, but details like relative height might make a co-worker sense that something was wrong, even if they couldn't pinpoint why. "What do you think of the face?"

  He squinted at me. "It's hard for me to tell when you haven't done the hair."

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I was used to doing this part with Mom or Dad, who would have been able to pick out the most nuanced details and tell me exactly what I'd done wrong, before I had completely finished. But I had to work with what I had, so I frizzed out my hair and lengthened it a little. The cone cut Mom had chosen for Andrea was truly terrible on her, but that was the point—plain women are invisible.

  "That looks right," Kalif said.

  "Good." I knew it wasn't perfect, but hopefully it was close enough.

  The rest of the body was easier, since people are mostly identified by their face. I still had to string out my frame a little, lengthening my legs and widening my shoulders. I sucked in my spine at the waist, so that my proportions of leg to torso were more exaggerated. As a result, the jeans I was wearing became an inch too short, and my shirt hung longer over my hips.