“Don’t remind me.”
Jaz looked at me. “Hair’s a problem. Small changes in color, texture, length, we can manage. Otherwise, it’s dye and wigs. Build is even worse. Again, small changes only. Lifts, posture, clothing, it can only do so much. If a guy is five foot eight? Six foot four? Forget it. Luckily, people aren’t that observant. If you’re off by an inch or ten pounds, no one notices.”
All this he relayed as conversationally as he’d tell me how he got to work each morning. When he finished, he eased back in his seat and scratched his jaw, gaze slanted my way, expectant.
He did it. They did. Killed them. Their gang. Their friends. And now he sat here, chattering away, same old Jaz.
As I listened to him, the bile threatened to return. I sat as still as I could, ignoring his hopeful glances.
He adjusted his seat belt. Squirmed in his seat. Tapped his fingers against his leg. Once he reached over as if to touch me, then pulled back.
He wanted me to ask questions. He wanted to tell me more. I was disappointing him.
Good.
If I could push him far enough, maybe I’d piss him off. Then the mask would crack and I’d see what lurked beneath. I knew that wasn’t safe-I should be mollifying him, not thwarting him. But I couldn’t help it. I needed to see the monster. I needed to stop seeing Jaz.
“Glasses?” Sonny said after a few minutes.
“Oh, right.”
Jaz reached under the seat and pulled out a bag. Inside were oversized dark sunglasses with side pieces. He handed them to me.
“Put them on, please.”
And what if I don’t, I thought.
But common sense won out and I took the glasses. I’d play the game while I looked for my chance to escape.
No, not escape. If I ran away, we’d lose them. If they could do what I’d just seen-a supernatural power, not a trick or disguise-then they could hide anywhere, as anyone. I had to stay with them until I could get help.
I put on the glasses and the world went dark.
“WATCH YOUR STEP.”
Jaz took my arm. I resisted the urge to shake him off and let him guide me up three steps. The glasses were blacked out on the inside, as effective as a blindfold.
The click of metal on metal. Keys. Or lock picks. Jaz’s thumb beat a tattoo on my upper arm as we waited. I caught a whiff of garbage left in the sun too long. The pressure of Jaz’s fingers on my arm warned me we were about to move, then, “Okay, one more step up.”
I presumed we were at a hideout until I walked through the doorway and a wave of chaos memory hit. The crack of buckling metal, as a figure leapt onto a car hood. The stink of burning streamers. The flash of a demonic dog’s head rearing up in a doorway.
“The banquet hall,” I murmured.
“You’re good.” Excitement crept into his voice as his fingers tightened. “What do you see?”
I shook my head. He led me forward at least twenty feet.
“If I know where I am, I can take off the glasses, can’t I?”
“Not yet.”
He stopped. The chaos in the air seemed brittle. Tension. A moment of silence, then Jaz broke it with a small cough.
“I’ll…” he began.
“Take it from here,” Sonny said.
“Yeah.”
Strain tightened Jaz’s voice. All traces of excitement gone. Cold fingers of dread crept up my spine. I desperately sent out feelers, but I couldn’t read him. I never could. It was as if his nonstop chaos vibe interfered.
“Guard the door, okay, bro?” he said. “I’ll be down after I…take care of this.”
Take care of it?
I wheeled, fists lashing out in the direction of his voice. One made contact. Jaz gasped. Blind, I kept turning, veering toward the door, hand flying up to wrench off the glasses-
Cold metal pressed into the base of my skull.
“Stop, Faith.”
It was Sonny, his voice as cold as the gun barrel. I pictured Guy on the gurney. Heard Dr. Aberquero’s voice: “Single gunshot to the base of the skull, through the central nervous system.” To my shame, I let out the first note of a whimper.
He withdrew the gun. “Go with Jaz.”
As Jaz led me away, I kept hearing his words: I’ll take care of this. I felt myself move across the room, up the stairs, his hand on my elbow, heard his murmured directions, but none of it seemed real, as I floated, numb.
Get him away from Sonny. That was the key. Away from Sonny…
“Duck your head. It’s a low opening.” He chuckled. “Even for you.”
The smell of stale cigarette smoke hit me and even before he tugged off my glasses I knew I was in the room where we’d waited for the heist to begin.
“Remember this?” He backed up and waved at the spy hole. “Us? Watching the party?”
He took my hand and sat cross-legged, pulling me down in front of him. My gaze ran over him, looking for the gun. I needed to know where it was before-
“Do you still have the watch I gave you?”
He had to repeat himself before I understood, and even then I didn’t understand. Didn’t know what possible significance it could have to this moment. I shook my head.
“That’s okay. It’s probably at your apartment. We’ll get it when all this is over.”
We’ll get it? As in him and Sonny? Retrieve the valuables after he “finished this”?
“Remember when you first came to the club?” he said. “Sonny and I heard the new recruit might be an Expisco and we thought ‘Oh, shit.’ Definitely not good for our plans. When I went to that door, we’d already decided how we’d get rid of you. But then I opened it and…bam.”
He grinned. “One split-second and everything changed. Of course, Sonny wasn’t too happy, but he came around when he saw how useful you could be.”
“Useful?”
He squeezed my hand, then uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound good, but that’s how Sonny is. The practical one. I’m the dreamer, he’s the doer. It’s…” His pupils dilated and his color rose, and he looked like he had that night after the heist. Drunk on adrenaline and tequila. “I can’t even begin to explain it, Hope. Sonny and me-we can do anything. And now, with you, it’s only going to get better.”
I should be relieved-he wasn’t going to kill me-but I could only stare at him. He squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt, apologized, rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, then uncrossed and recrossed his legs again, as if he couldn’t sit still. His face glowed and I swore I could see a barrage of thoughts ping-ponging around behind his eyes as he struggled to release them in some semblance of order.