Tremble (Denazen #3)(50)
It would have been easier to mimic an entirely new person, but it was too soon. I’d pushed myself recently, curious about my limits when it came to mimicking other people, and found that doing too much too soon would hurl me into the equivalent of a coma for two days straight. Crossing my fingers, I hoped there was still enough juice to change a few key features of my face and clothing.
No one particular in mind, I imagined it a bit puffier, lengthened just a smidge, framed by short dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. As I watched the mirror, my skin began to stretch and morph, taking the shape in my mind. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My eyebrows were uneven, but no one would notice.
I hoped.
Now, instead of the flight attendant looking back at me from the mirror, there was a petite raven-haired woman with chipmunk cheeks and a chin that came to a bit of a point. Her eyes were blue—darker than Kale’s—and held a hint of mischief, her police uniform starched and clean. I sighed. Showtime. “Let’s go bag us a Supremacy kid,” I said to my new law enforcement reflection.
Out the door and back into the hall, I walked slowly but steadily back to the room where they were holding Ben. Just before I got there, I saw Kiernan stroll slowly past the other end of the hall. They knew where he was and were beginning to circle like vultures. I had to act fast. If it were possible, Kiernan was even more impulsive than me. Where I tended to stop and think things through, she would just charge in.
“Officer Debra Morgan,” I said before even thinking about it. Crap. That’s what I got for watching reruns! Dad never bothered with cable, and with Kale gone, I’d soaked up seventeen years’ worth in record time. Everything from disaster flicks to soaps. I’d moved onto Netflix and was currently working my way through the first season of The Walking Dead.
I held my breath and waited, hoping to God neither man was a Dexter fan. Casually glancing at the nametag of the man closest to me, I asked, “Which one of you is Spitz?”
He nodded and stood a little straighter. “That would be me.”
“My captain wants to see you. He’s waiting in the security office.”
He nodded again, once to me, then to his partner, then trekked down the hall toward the main terminal. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had no idea where the security office was, but hopefully it wasn’t too close. I needed a few minutes to get in and get out.
I inclined my head toward the door, hitching my thumbs through my belt like I’d seen the officers at the Blueberry Bean do a million times. Squaring my shoulders, I cleared my throat and said, “He in there?”
The remaining security officer waved me ahead. “Go for it. He’s bonkers. One minute he’s normal, the next he’s crazy. PCP if you ask me. Kid’s higher than a kite.”
Wonderful. Supremacy crazies were setting in. That would make things so much easier.
I held my breath and ducked into the room. Ben was sitting in the same place, forehead resting atop the table. When he heard the door, he twisted around without lifting his head. “Fantastic,” he groaned. “Don’t I at least get a phone call or something?”
I closed the door and crossed the room, kneeling beside him. “We don’t have a lot of time, so while this is going to be a sort of crash course in reality, I need you to listen. ’Kay?”
“Um, sure.” He picked up his head, attention divided between the door and me like he was waiting for the camera crew to bust in. Not long ago I’d felt the same way.
He seemed lucid, and I didn’t know how long it would last, so I took a deep breath and launched right in. “I know who you are—what you are.” I grabbed the chain of the handcuffs as he started to protest and slapped my other hand across his mouth. “Listen, remember? I know because you and I—we’re the same.”
In my hand, the cool metal chain grew lighter. More flimsy. My ability used to be limited by similar mass and size. Lately, I’d found the same laws didn’t apply. The metal chain-turned-paper crumbled in my hand and tore as I gave a good yank.
Ben gasped. “What the fu—”
I dragged him from the seat and covered his mouth. “Shh! Still talking here. Somewhere skulking around this airport is a handful of people looking to make you their bitch because of the brain-busting thing you can do. We have to get out of here before they find us because, trust me, you don’t want to meet them.”
He blinked, looking from his wrists to the door, and nodded. I removed my hand. “So you’re not a cop?”
I ignored his question and pointed to the corner of the room behind the door. “Get over there and stay out of sight. I’m opening the door.”
He hesitated but finally crossed the room, wedging himself into the corner like he was hoping this was all some bad dream.
I pulled open the door and leaned around the frame into the hall, motioning for the remaining security officer to come inside. When he did, his eyes traveled from the empty table to me with a slightly panicked gleam. He made a move toward the door, presumably to call for help. I darted forward to stop him, but something sent him flying back into the room. A second later the door slammed closed…
…and Kiernan appeared.
20
“Whoa!” Ben breathed, sliding farther down the wall. His eyes were wide as Frisbees and he looked a little pale. I hoped to God he wasn’t going to puke.