Body Thief (19 page)

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Authors: C.J. Barry

BOOK: Body Thief
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“Father Sun did not show her mercy on her long walk. Mother Earth did not provide shade. The Skinwalker walked alone.”
The stories her father told her rose from the images. Tales of hope and courage. Stories passed on from generation to generation. The wonderful and terrible legends of her people. Of their birth, life on their home planet—before it died, before the escape to other worlds. Before everything changed.
“I saw you standing on the mountain. Watching the Skinwalker. But you did not raise a hand to save her.”
Cam felt the tears burn her eyes. Mercer. He wouldn’t save her. He could barely save himself.
“The Skinwalker stumbled and fell to the ground. The sand burned her hands and feet. The wind raked her skin. The sun beat down.”
Cam felt the warmth of her own tears.
“I know you, Grandson. You will not watch this happen. You will not stand by as she dies.”
Cam closed her eyes and held on to hope for the Skinwalker.
“The day will come soon when you must act. The Skinwalker is not one of us. But she has nowhere else to go.”
Her hands were shaking as it dawned on her: He was asking Mercer to help her. Telling Mercer what to do.
“These things I know.” Then he said good-bye, and the answering machine clicked off.
She could hear the water in the shower turn off. She didn’t want Mercer to help her because his grandfather; told him to. Griffin would do it for his grandfather, she knew that. Despite what he said about not talking to him, there was great respect. Maybe even shame. Would Mercer help her to avoid shame? She didn’t want that. For once, she wanted someone to do something for Shifters with their heart and their mind.
Besides, she didn’t need anyone to save her.
And before she could change her mind, she reached over and erased the message.
 
“Our inside people tell us that the final testing is under way,” Red told Aristotle. “And they got almost everything they need to make the toxin and make a lot of it.”
Aristotle clasped his hands on the table that was the center of his meager home. Damp, concrete walls were covered with graffiti and moisture. A bed and a stove were the other luxuries he’d collected for this underground world.
Red leaned across the table. “Did you hear me?”
He nodded. “Yes. That is not good news.”
“No kiddin’,” Red said. Today, he had red hair and tattoos. “We tried sabotaging their supply lines. It didn’t work. They found alternatives or slipped through our fingers. What do we do now?”
Aristotle had hoped that by cutting out their supplies, he could slow down the development of the toxin. A year ago, it seemed possible. Today, it was desperate. There simply were not enough Shifters in his teams to stop them, and they’d succeeded where he’d hoped they’d fail. “Call everyone in. No sense in risking them now.”
Red waited. “And what about the toxin facility?”
Aristotle flexed his hands and felt the pain of growing old. “We can’t take the facility, Red. We don’t have the manpower. We don’t have humans to help us.”
“We don’t need humans,” Red said brazenly. “We can do this.”
Aristotle shook his head.
Youth
. “If they use the gas on us, we’ll all be dead, and everything we’ve done will be for nothing. We need humans. They’re not supposed to be affected.”
Red slammed his hand on the table. “I can’t believe this. Even when we try to save ourselves, we have to rely on them.”
And so it was everywhere Shifters traveled. Always at the mercy of the natives. If Aristotle had more energy, he’d be furious about it. Like Red. But he’d used every bit of his strength to run this operation.
“We have our people inside,” Red suggested. “They’ll help us.”
“We won’t get through their security,” Aristotle said. “Our sources inside can only do so much without being discovered. I can’t ask them to risk more than they already have.”
Hopelessness filled Aristotle. So much work. It could all be wasted. He was old; he’d die soon. But the other Shifters were young, and they deserved to live a full life, even it was as tragic as his had been.
“Did you find Camille’s father?” he asked.
Red nodded. “Detained in an XCEL detention center in Jersey City.”
“Detained? Against his will?” Aristotle asked.
“Yeah. I mean, why else would he be there?”
Detained
. And his daughter was working for XCEL. It didn’t make sense. Unless . . . unless she didn’t have a choice. Unless they were coercing her help. A spark of hope penetrated his defeat. That meant that she didn’t
want
to work with XCEL. He was feeling better by the second.
“What about the movements of Camille and Griffin?” he asked.
Red shrugged. “They’re investigating our hits. And some of the others.”
Aristotle sat up straighter in his chair. “Others? You mean Harding’s hits?”
“Yeah, those,” Red said and frowned. “That’s a little weird. Why would he send them to check those out?”
He wouldn’t. He knew Shifters didn’t attack those places, and he wouldn’t risk being exposed.
Which meant Camille and Mercer already knew of the deception. How much they knew, Aristotle couldn’t guess. But he could use that.
“They’ll come for us,” Aristotle said aloud.
Red laughed. “They’ll never find us down here.”
“Yes, they will,” Aristotle told him. “Because I want to make contact. I want to talk to them.”
Red’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”
Aristotle didn’t feel like explaining his logic. He was too tired. “Keep your enemies closer, Red.”
Confusion masked the young man’s face. “I don’t get it. What if XCEL tracks them to us?”
Aristotle replied, “Sometimes you have to think beyond the obvious. Rarely are things as they seem on the surface.”
Red raised his hands. “I can never follow your slow talk.”
Wisdom,
Aristotle corrected silently.
“How about we test them first?” Red suggested. “Before we open ourselves up.”
It was a good option, Aristotle decided. “Yes, that would be wise.”
Red grinned. “See? I can be useful.”
Aristotle chuckled. “Set up a meeting with them. Somewhere safe for you.” Then he remembered that Camille might recognize Red. “On second thought, just Mercer. Talk to him. See what he wants.”
Red nodded. “I can do that, but is that enough?”
Yes, perhaps a bigger test was needed. “Assist them in finding more of Harding’s hits. Preferably
before
they happen.”
Red frowned. “You know how tricky it is to anticipate who they will hit next.”
“I have complete faith in you, my boy,” Aristotle said with a smile. “You know which ones are the most likely. Put the word out to the informers and the other Shifters. It’ll reach them. Then we’ll see which side Camille and her XCEL agent choose.”
The young man nodded in agreement. He was a good student, a quick learner. Aristotle could only hope that he’d live long enough to take advantage of all these lessons.
“And what about the toxin?” Red asked. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
Aristotle rubbed his arms. It was getting chilly in his room, even though he knew it wasn’t. Hot tea would be nice. Sleep would be better. “I need to think.”
Red stood up. “Sure, but don’t take too long. We don’t have time to spare.”
If anyone knew that, it was Aristotle. “Go have fun with your friends.”
Red gave him a mock salute. “Okay, boss.” Then he left Aristotle alone with the gravity of his situation.
 
Shifter suspect number five stood at the door of his apartment in baggy pants and a sweat-stained T-shirt. He was about forty, a little too thin and a little too tall. Behind him, dirty clothes and empty food containers littered the floor. A baby wailed somewhere on the floor below them while Griffin focused on his questioning.
“We just want to talk to you for a minute,” he pressed, and flashed his badge one more time.
The Shifter wasn’t buying it. “Go away. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
Griffin tried to get a few more inches out of the chain link that stretched between them. “This will just take a moment.”
Then he felt Cam slide in next to him and let her between them. She gave the man a smile. “You’re right, Mr. Trainer. You haven’t done anything wrong. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”
The Shifter frowned at her and glared at Griffin and her in turn before slamming the door and latching a whole lot of locks.
Griffin turned to her. “I’m sure you had a good reason for doing that.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she turned on her heel. “He’s not our man.”
Another wasted afternoon. Griffin shook his head and caught up with Cam on the stairs down to the first floor.
“Did he look like he was part of a highly trained, covert operation to you?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted. Although, the Shifter could be changing into a highly trained, covert operative as they spoke. They reached the first floor and pushed through the heavy door to the street. For a while, they stood on the sidewalk and watched the traffic cruise by in a neighborhood that no one should be living in.
Griffin noticed a Shifter standing on the corner waiting for the bus. He’d been there since they went inside. Griffin was pretty sure a bus or two had come since then.
“Does that Shifter look familiar to you?” he asked Cam.
She followed his gaze to the person in question and shook her head. “No. Why?”
Were they being followed? Griffin couldn’t be sure, but he was going to start paying more attention. “Probably nothing to worry about.”
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Does XCEL have any idea who these guys are?”
Griffin answered truthfully. “I don’t think so. They must be well protected.”
The Shifter waiting at the bus stop started wandering down the street, away from them. Griffin studied his unique Shifter shadow and filed it away in his memory.
“Or maybe Harding doesn’t care if we find them. Maybe it’s enough that we identified the sites as Shifter attacks,” Cam said. “Maybe it’s enough to blame Shifters, whether or not they were responsible for the attacks. Who would care?”
Griffin had thought of that as well, even though he didn’t want to. Since the beginning, Griffin had tried to justify every anomaly with this mission, tried to ignore the undercurrent of suspicions.
The hidden trailer.
The lack of any valid Shifter suspects.
The copycat attacks missing from their list.
He and Cam were getting nowhere fast. If they didn’t find the Shifters, he was sure that Harding would renege but still use their findings to blame Shifters—
And then he understood what his intuition was trying to tell him. Harding must have planned this all along, set up this whole “legitimate” operation as nothing more than a ploy to make it appear that he was doing something productive. He’d be able to stand in front of any government committee and claim he’d done everything he could to find the Shifters responsible. But he couldn’t, and so they’d all be blamed, to what end Griffin didn’t know. It was the only scenario that fit. Which meant that Harding didn’t need them anymore, or their deals.

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