Copper Veins (25 page)

“How did you even know about Juliana?” Sadie asked. “We didn't even meet her until long after you were gone. I think it was a year after Max was
arrested.”

“I told you, darling, I had my people watching the Raven Compound,” Dad replied. “They reported on everyone who visited the house.”

“But how did you know where to find her?” Sadie pressed. “The last time we saw her—”

“She was in the Mundane realm, at the apartment she shared with Sara,” Micah said over her.

“Of course I knew your address, Sara,” Dad explained. “My people are watching the building to this day.”

“Are they?” I said as I stared at him, at the pieces falling into place. I couldn't believe we'd fallen for it. “You know, of course, that Jerome Polonsky isn't really Avatar's son.”

“Is that what Micah told you?” Dad asked, his condescending tone raising my hackles. “Sara, I was there. I know the truth of the matter.”

“The truth of the matter is that Avatar lost his balls when he was twelve and never fathered anyone,” Mom said. “Everyone knows that.” Dad frowned—he hadn't expected such an ironclad rebuttal. Mom gave her husband a good long look, and asked, “Why did you ask me about the Raven?”

At that, Max and Sadie went still. “What did he want to know?” Sadie asked.

“He asked me who and where he was,” Mom replied. “So, I brought him right to the bird. Beau just stood there, staring at him as if he'd never seen
him before.”

“Wait,” Max said. “He asked who the Raven was?”

“He asked
me
who the Raven was, too,” Sadie said. “At first, I thought he was just testing me. But he kept asking me where he was, and if I could get a message to him.”

As we let that revelation sink in, Dad started spluttering. “You know that my memories aren't what they once were,” he began, but Max—
Max
, of all people—shook his head.

“Not gonna fly,” Max said. “The only way a Corbeau could forget about the Raven is a brain transplant.”

As Dad went on, explaining the horrible sacrifices he had had to make after the wars while hiding from roving bands of Peacekeepers, I wondered how they—whoever
they
were—had managed such a detailed facsimile. He'd even had the right pattern of freckles.

Wait. There was no way Peacekeepers had managed this on their own.

“Show us your mark,” I demanded.

“What?” Dad countered, taking a step back. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“I'd like to see my father's mark.”

“Sara, this is not appropriate—”

“Why are you so cold to Mom?” I interjected. Dad shut his mouth with an audible
clack
. “It's because you can't let her get too close, isn't it? She'll see that you don't have a mark, and then she'll know that you aren't really our dad.”

“Sara, please—”

In an instant, Micah was across the room, his hands around Not-My-Dad's throat. “Shapeshifter,” Micah growled. “How dare you infiltrate my home. How dare you use those I love.” Not-Dad pawed at Micah's hands, his face reddening and his eyes bulging. “Drop this ill-gotten guise, or I will force it from you.”

Not-Dad refused to comply, so Micah knocked his head into the wall. As the shapeshifter slipped from consciousness, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he slid down to the floor, he reverted to his true form, that of a slovenly, gray-skinned creature of indeterminate gender.

Mom rose from her seat, slowly approaching the creature that had impersonated her husband. “Abomination,” she murmured. “A vile, vile abomination.” She raised her hand, sparks dancing among her fingers, but before she could strike, physically or magically, Max leapt forward and caught her hand.

“Might need him, Ma,” he warned. “Maybe for intel, maybe as a hostage.”

Mom nodded and lowered her hand. “I've waited sixteen years—my vengeance can wait another day or two. But not much longer.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, staring at the shapeshifter. “Some part of me knew he was not my Beau, but I wanted him returned to me so badly, so badly I…”

She turned toward the wall, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Well, Micah?” she asked over her shoulder. “What shall we do with the beast?”

Micah summoned the silverkin, who appeared in an instant. “Remove this creature to the dungeon,” he ordered. The silverkin hauled the shapeshifter away, leaving the rest of us standing in the sitting room, minds reeling over what had just occurred.

“The manor has a dungeon?” Sadie murmured. “Who knew?”

“Sure does,” I murmured, remembering our other unwanted guest. “And boy, is it getting full.”

In the chaos that followed the shapeshifter's removal, we truly acted like we'd lost it, and let's face it, the Corbeaus have never excelled at keeping it together. Max was swearing a blue streak, alternating between grumbling about Juliana's presence at the manor and our family being infiltrated by our false father. Even Sadie—calm, even-tempered Sadie—trembled with rage. As for me, I wondered, loudly, how any of us were dumb enough to fall for that routine, especially me. Through it all, Mom just sat there, staring at her hands.

“I guess Dad really is gone,” I murmured to Micah, watching Mom's forlorn form. “At least that jerk wasn't him.” Micah grunted, silver brows drawn low over his eyes. I wondered if he'd even heard me.

“What do we know of shapeshifters?” Micah asked suddenly. I blinked at him, since really, we mortals knew very little of them. “A shifter, even a strong one, can only hold a false form for a day, perhaps two. Then the edges blur somewhat, and he must be in the presence of his target again.”

“All the times he just disappeared, taking those stupid walks,” I concluded. “He was going off to look at a picture of Dad. He couldn't do it here, since we'd wonder why he was staring at a picture of himself.”

“Not a picture,” Micah said, shaking his head. “A shifter cannot assume the form of anything other than a living creature.” Micah stared at Mom as he spoke, her head rising as she understood.

“Beau's alive,” she gasped.

“And within walking distance of the manor,” Micah said.

“We must organize a search,” Mom said. “We will canvas the area, knock on every door if we have to, but I will find my husband.”

“Why don't we just talk to Juliana?” Sadie asked. When Max and I both glared at her, she elaborated, “I mean, she
is
a Peacekeeper. She probably knows a thing or two.”

“A sound plan,” Micah murmured while I grumbled about how I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than speak to Juliana. In spite of my opinions, a few of the silverkin were sent to fetch her. Not five minutes later, they escorted Juliana into the parlor.

“I would like to know where my husband is,” Mom demanded without preamble.

“I don't know where he's being held,” Juliana said, “but Mr. Corbeau is alive. He was captured a few years ago, when he tried to break into the Institute.” She turned toward Max, but looked at his shoulder rather than his eyes. “Max, do you remember when iron warriors attacked the Institute?”

Max nodded. “How could I forget?” he murmured. “He really was trying to rescue me?”

“He was,” Juliana confirmed. The shifter hadn't lied about everything, then. “He enlisted Ferra's assistance, but she betrayed him and turned him over to Mike.”

“Why would Ferra do that?” I asked. “Shouldn't she have been against Mike, too?”

Juliana shrugged. “She wanted to eliminate any metal Elementals more powerful than her. So, she handed Mr. Corbeau over to the Institute, then removed all of the metal from the surrounding area so Max wouldn't be able to escape.”

“The shapeshifter,” Micah prompted. “What made them send that abomination to my home when they did?”

Juliana's eyes widened—based on the anger in Micah's eyes, he was less than pleased that an imposter had been sent to the manor. Mom was rather unpleased as well. “The decision was made when the drones spotted the rest of you at the Hall
of Records, when you got married,” Juliana replied. “Congratulations, by the way,” she added with a nod toward Micah and me.

“Thanks,” I muttered while Micah stated, “We were glamoured. There is no way your drones could have recognized any of us.”

“It was you they recognized,” Juliana said. Micah began to protest, but she raised her hand, and just like that silenced the Lord of Silver. “You were wearing the same glamour that you wore to the Promenade. The exact same glamour that you were wearing when I met you at Sara's apartment.”

Micah opened his mouth only to snap it shut. He did always wear the same human guise, that of a tall human man with brown hair and gray eyes. I'd named him Mike Silver.

Max leaned back in his chair, his hands laced behind his head. “You mean Mr. Perfect screwed up?”

“Not now, Max,” I hissed, then I turned back to Juliana. “So, you identified Micah for them?” I accused.

“I didn't have to,” she retorted. “After your little stunt at the Promenade, everyone was on the lookout for him.”

“But how did they know he was the Lord of Silver?” I demanded.

“Remember when you wrecked the Institute?” Juliana asked, and I nodded. As if I could have forgotten. “Micah was beside you the whole time,
supporting you. Everyone, even Peacekeepers, knows who the Lord of Silver is. Then you show up at the Promenade with a man whose image wasn't recorded anywhere, and a few weeks later that same mystery man trots into a Hall of Records with four other unrecorded individuals and requests a marriage ceremony. It wasn't too difficult to connect the dots.”

“I guess it wasn't,” I mumbled, chancing a look toward Micah. He was frowning so hard I worried he'd give himself a hernia, and he was so mad the tips of his ears were pink. By contrast, Max looked as happy as I'd ever seen him. “Was that the plan all along? Wait for me to get married and send a fake father to kidnap me?”

“Not the marriage part. As soon as we dug our way out of the Institute, they started looking for suitable candidates to impersonate your father.”

“We or they?” I asked. Juliana blinked, so I elaborated. “Which is it—are you one of them or not? Are you a traitor now?”

“They've thought that I was a traitor for a while,” she mumbled, dropping her eyes. “Now it's just official.”

“And we should believe you why?” I pressed. “For all we know, you're just feeding us more lies.”

“I never wanted to lie to you,” Juliana said.

“Then why was I working that sham job?” I demanded. “Why didn't you tell me where Max was, I don't know, ever?”

“Who do you think put those plans on your computer?” Juliana shot back. She was trembling, fists clenched.

I blinked. “Why didn't you drop a hint, so I knew where to look?”

“If I'd known it was going to take you a fricken' year to check the files on your own computer, I would have tacked them to your forehead,” she retorted. “Seriously, Sara, you didn't even need Internet access.”

“It was against the rules,” I snapped. Juliana glanced at her upper arm meaningfully. Though we couldn't see it beneath her shirt sleeve, Juliana sported a half-moon-shaped scar over where her tracking chip had once resided, right over her bicep. It had been my idea to cut the chips out of our arms, a teenager's way of thumbing her nose at authority. And no, we hadn't followed the rules in the slightest.

“Well, why did you come here with the shapeshifter?” I demanded, trying to shift focus away from my apparent thick-headedness.

Juliana's gaze flickered across my face, then dropped to stare at her hands. “It returned to headquarters and was going to tell Mike and Langston that it was unable to sway you.”

“Sway me?” I repeated.

“Sway you to leave Micah and go back to the Mundane realm,” she explained. Micah's fingers clenched around my elbow, but he remained silent.
Before I could point out what a stupid plan that was, even for Peacekeepers, Max spoke up.

“That's crap,” Max said. “Mike wouldn't have sent you here to talk to anyone. If anything, he would have wired you and asked you to dig for information.”

Juliana stared at Max for a moment before replying. “Mike didn't send me here—the shifter never filed his report. I faked orders, intercepted the shapeshifter, and told him to bring me here.”

When we all stared at her, open-mouthed, she continued. “I mean, after you wrecked Langston's rally, he was furious. I really thought he was going to kill me that time, but you know how he doesn't like to get his hands dirty. He figured that, if you guys weren't on to the shapeshifter yet, you would be soon. So, when the shifter checked in talking about how no one was buying his act, I knew I had to do something.”

Max's expression, which had been furious, softened a bit. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Juliana shrugged. “No more than usual.”

“Easy words coming from the one working with Peacekeepers,” I said.

“Cut her some slack, Sara,” Max said. “Jules has been through a lot.”

Great, now my own brother was siding with the enemy, and one that he should be hating at least as much as I did. Here he was, telling me to give the one who'd experimented on him for years some—

Wait. What had he called her?

“Jules?” I asked. Juliana's head shot up, her eyes wide and panicked. You see, Juliana has a thing about her name—it's Juliana. Joo-LEE-Ah-Na. Not Julie, not J, not anything but Juliana. If you referred to her by anything other than her full name, she'd either flat-out ignore you or give you a verbal tongue-lashing.

Max had just called her Jules, and she hadn't even flinched. More significantly, she hadn't corrected him. Which meant that he'd called her that before.