Impostor (4 page)

CHAPTER 5

“
M
aybe it’s not as bad as you think,” Holly said. She sat beside me on my bed, worrying her lower lip.

“I lost control of my Variation. That’s the worst thing that could have happened. I’m worried that it’s a bad sign. That I’m not good enough for this mission.”

“Don’t say that. Your Variation is as close to perfection as it can get, and it always has been. I’ve never told you this, but you know, sometimes I really envy you.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m the last person anyone should envy. My Variation was the only thing in my life that was consistent, and now? It’s like I have nothing that’s solid.” I shook my head. “Gosh, listen to me. Now I’m being all dramatic, though it’s all my fault. I should’ve never turned into Kate. If Alec tells Major, he’ll ban me from the mission.” I said it like it was a bad thing, but a small part of me secretly wanted him to. At least then I wouldn’t have to face a crazy-ass killer.

“Alec likes you too much to let this get in the way of things. I’m sure he’ll forget it ever happened.”

“He won’t.”

I’d broken Alec’s trust. I knew this wasn’t something he would forget. And if it had been anyone but me, he’d probably tell Major.

“You didn’t see Alec’s face when he realized it was me.” My voice broke. I tried to cover it up with a cough but it was no use. Holly’s eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around me. “Everything will be fine. Alec will forgive you and you’ll rock the mission.”

She nudged me. “Come on. Let’s have dinner and pretend nothing ever happened. We’ll erase the last two hours from your mind.”

I sighed. “I wish you could actually do that.”

• • •

I was much too busy to curl into a heap of self-pity, though I wanted nothing more. A pile of Madison’s yearbooks, her old papers, maps of Livingston, and all sorts of other artifacts sat in a hefty pile on my desk. I picked up the heap, supporting it with my chin to keep it from tipping over, and left the room.

My arms quivered under the weight of the pile. I decided against the staircase for once and let the elevator take me down to the basement floor, where the library and kitchen were situated. Passing the silence of the library doors, I followed the clanking of pots and the sound of singing that drifted from the back of the building. As I stepped through the double swinging doors, I spotted Martha—swaying to the music emanating from an old radio above the sink, her back turned to me, her gray hair bundled in a hairnet. She was a big woman, all softness and curves. Without turning around, she snapped, “Food’s upstairs. No sneaking around in my kitchen!” Her words were hardened by her Austrian accent, a remnant from her childhood in Vienna during World War II. Her father, a Variant, had cooperated with the newly founded FEA to help overthrow the Nazis. But he was captured and killed before the end of the war. The FEA brought Martha and her mother into the U.S. and employed them, though Martha herself didn’t have a Variation—like most children of Variants. But Tanner often joked that her otherworldly cooking must be the result of some secret foodie Variation, as it was undeniably superhuman.

Her scowl disappeared when she saw me. “Tessa,
mein Mädchen
.” She always called me her girl.

I lowered my stuff onto the kitchen island.

She wiggled her index finger. “Oh oh, Tony won’t like that. You’ll get grease on your papers!” Martha was the only one who called Major by his first name, Tony, short for Antonio. Most people didn’t even dare to address him by his last name, much less a nickname. And the actual chance of getting grease on anything was close to zero. Martha’s kitchen was the cleanest room in headquarters.

“He won’t find out, will he?” I climbed onto one of the barstools and spread Madison’s yearbook and the papers out in front of me. Martha leaned against the sink and watched me.

“Having trouble with your boy?”

“How can you tell?” I asked, not trying to deny it.

“I know that look. All lovelorn. I too was young once,
mein Mädchen
.”

Martha was the only person I’d ever heard use the word
lovelorn
in her daily speech. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine her as a young girl, without a double chin, flappy skin, and wrinkles.

She put a wrinkled hand on mine, her palm rough from baking and washing dishes. “French toast makes everything better. What do you say?”

I smiled. She squeezed my hand and began assembling the ingredients for her famous brioche French toast with fresh raspberries.

I opened the yearbook and skimmed through its pages until I landed on Madison’s photo. She looked happy. Right next to it, I found a picture of her best friend, Ana. She had curly brown hair, an oval face, and huge eyes like a girl from a manga. I’d surely recognize her in person. I browsed further, scanning the faces at dances, pep rallies, and school plays, only to stop at a photo of a boy named Phil Faulkner. I was halted by his eyes, which were a translucent, watery blue, like the color had been washed from them. A number of Variants had weird eyes, Kate and I among them. If Phil was a Variant, that might help explain why Major was interested in the case. But strange eyes didn’t automatically make him one of us. Still, I told myself, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him just in case.

Martha set a plate down in front of me. It smelled of vanilla, sweetness, and lemon. “Thanks,” I said, already bringing a fork to my lips. “Mmm.” That was enough validation for Martha. She patted my cheek and returned to scrubbing the counters.

Careful not to drop any food onto the yearbook, I continued to pore over its pages. There were too many names, too many faces with too many histories behind them to remember everything. Moving on to the final pages of the book, I found the superlatives section, where people were awarded titles like Best Artist or Dream Couple.

As I scanned over the photos, I choked on a bite of brioche, my eyes starting to water. Martha looked up from the counter, face tight with disapproval over my ruining a perfectly fine bite of her French toast by coughing. I swallowed, staring at a picture of Madison and Ryan. “The Dream Couple.” Holy shit. Why had nobody bothered to tell me this?

So Madison had had a boyfriend, Ryan Wood. Had they been a couple up until her attack?

As I studied the photo, I noticed something was off about their body language. Ryan looked like he couldn’t be happier, but Madison’s smile was a bit too bright, her expression a bit too devoted, everything about her a bit . . . too much. I wished I could see into her thoughts in that moment, but even Kate wasn’t capable of such a thing.

As it was, I’d just have to investigate the old-fashioned way. I slammed the yearbook shut. Martha tsked but didn’t say anything.

Next I rummaged through Madison’s school papers. There were essays about Tolstoy, Kafka, and even Nabokov’s
Lolita
, for which she had earned perfect grades. I hoped no one expected me to write papers about literature, which really wasn’t my thing.

I spread the map of Livingston on the kitchen island. Right next to Livingston was Manlow, the neighboring town. Nestled in between them lay the lake where Madison and one of the other victims had been found. Stretches of deep green dominated the map, indicating lots of forest. Livingston had only two main roads, where most of the shops were located. I counted two gas stations, two graveyards, and a drive-in movie theater. Not much of anything really. Madison and her parents lived in one of the newer developments bordering the forest. I folded the map and, after a moment of hesitation, I opened the file about the murders.

The first victim was Dr. Hansen. She’d been a thirty-five-year-old pediatrician at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Manlow, but she lived in Livingston, close to the lake. She’d been found in her backyard, strangled, with an
A
cut into her rib cage. Soon afterward, Kristen Cynch, a seventeen-year-old high school senior, was found drowned in the lake. She had unusual marks that looked like a snake had wrapped itself around her throat. Her skin was bloated and blue, but the red mark of her killer was impossible to miss. The same signature had been cut into the other two victims, including the janitor, Mr. Chen. Hesitantly, I touched the spot over my ribs where the mark would be. Sickness settled in my stomach.

I hopped off the barstool, deciding to call it a night. “Good night, Martha, and thanks for the food.”

She waved me off with a small smile.

The moment I arrived back on the fourth floor, I heard the fighting. The words were hushed, so it took me a moment to recognize the voices: Alec and Kate. I crept closer and peeked around the corner. They stood facing each other by the door to Alec’s room.

“I can’t read your thoughts but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re thinking!” Kate hissed.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Alec said. There was an edge to his voice, though he was much calmer than Kate.

“Don’t play dumb. Everyone notices how you are around her. It’s ridiculous.”

“This discussion is ridiculous,” Alec said. He turned to go into his room but Kate gripped his arm.

“I know you two had movie night last week. You didn’t even tell me.”

“Kate, I don’t have to ask your permission for every little thing I do.”

“We’re in this together. Remember what Major said.” She lowered her voice so I didn’t catch her next words, but Alec’s face darkened. He stormed into his room with Kate close behind, the door closing behind them.

What had Major said?

No matter what, one thing was clear: they were fighting because of me. I wasn’t sure if I should feel elated or worried. Kate was a force to be reckoned with.

• • •

The next morning on my way to the dojo, I actually considered breaking my leg so I wouldn’t have to face Alec. But I thought better of it, since Major would probably insist I do training with my arms.

I arrived a few minutes early to mentally prepare myself. But when I approached the entrance, Alec was already there, sitting on a bench and staring at his feet. A few strands of black hair fell into his face. For a moment, I was sure he was crying. I froze halfway into the dojo, not sure what to do. I’d never seen Alec cry. He was the epitome of self-control. I inched slowly toward him but he didn’t look up, though his body tensed. I touched his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

His muscles shifted under my fingers as though he was bracing himself for his reply, or maybe fighting against it. “I had a talk with Major—about his expectations. He wants me to take more responsibility and—” He stopped midsentence. Anger surged through me. Why was Major pressuring Alec? Sometimes I wondered if he saw Alec as his successor and kept challenging him to determine if he was up for the job.

“Tell him you’re not ready for it,” I said.

He looked up, his eyes tortured but devoid of tears. “It’s not that easy.”

I gently kneaded his shoulder, fighting the urge to hug him. “You know I’m there for you if you need me. And you know you can talk to me about anything.”

For a moment he looked like he wanted to, like I’d broken through his mask of duty, but then he shook his head. “No. I wish I could, but I can’t talk to you about it.”

I tried to hide how much that sentence had wounded me. “Then talk to Kate. Maybe she can help you.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I’d rather have Kate take care of Alec than have him suffer alone.

“Kate wouldn’t understand. She would just agree with Major. Her first priority has always been the FEA and that won’t ever change. I’ve got to deal with this alone.”

How could he be with someone who didn’t make him a priority?

“I shouldn’t be talking to you about this,” he said as he stood, letting my hand slip off his shoulder, bringing a few steps of distance between us.

“I think we need to talk about yesterday,” he said.

That was the last thing I wanted to do, especially when he was in such a strange mood. I started wrapping tape around my palms to prepare them for my training, adding one layer after the other. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“We have to get this out of the way. We have a job to do. We can’t have something—anything—distracting us. Major’s worried it’ll interfere with the mission.”

I dropped the tape. “What’s Major got to do with it? Did you tell him about yesterday?”

“No, of course not. He noticed something was . . . going on. Everyone has.” He scanned my face, and I had a hard job keeping it in check. “Listen, whatever there is between us, it’s got to stop. I’m too old for you and it isn’t right.”

“You’re only three years older than me.” Why did I even argue with him? He’d clearly made up his mind, and nothing, certainly nothing I could say, would change that.

“And I’m with Kate.”

That was a point I couldn’t contradict. They may have fought yesterday and they might be together for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, but they were still a couple. I stared at a spot over his left shoulder. There was a small crack running down the length of the floor-length mirror. It warped my reflection, dividing my face into two distinct halves. I felt a lie slipping out of my mouth. “Don’t worry. The mission is the only thing that counts.”

I started to stretch my legs and arms, ignoring the tightness in my chest.

Alec came up behind me, but the concern didn’t leave his face. “All right. I think you’ve improved a lot. Someone who doesn’t know about your Variation will have trouble beating you.”

But for perhaps the first time, I didn’t want to hear his praise.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Oh yes.”

Alec’s arms came around me.

The rippling sensation washed over me. Shrinking, shifting, shaping.

Alec loosened his grip, though he should’ve been able to predict my move. Now in the body of a small child, I slipped out of his hold and scurried backward. I returned to my own body and aimed a high-kick at his head. He sidestepped my attempt and pushed me back, barely touching my body.

Why was it that he could appear on my doorstep for movie night after months of keeping his distance and then act like nothing happened? Why could he almost kiss me that day but a few days later act like it was all my doing?