Chapter 28

Caro didn’t even recognize the short, gray-haired, barrel-chested Latino man as Tom, which was probably the point. He looked her up and down with rheumy eyes but didn’t comment. Instead, he dove straight into orders. His voice was lower, more gravelly.

“We’re going to park in the south lot and go through the side door,” he said. “Do you have a hat?”

“I never wear hats. I mean, Maria doesn’t. Or sunglasses.”

He grunted. “Figures. All right. I want you to keep your gaze straight. Don’t make eye contact with anyone and definitely do not engage in any conversation. Eyes on the objective.” He glanced at her doubtfully, then clearly decided she would benefit from a clarification on this last point. “Which is to get what you need out of your apartment in less than five minutes.”

“That’s not a lot of time.”

“Right. So pack fast. I’ve got a couple bags for you, but take only the things you need. We can’t haul out your entire wardrobe without raising suspicion. Get your personal things and that’s it. Don’t bother with anything we can buy.”

Caro nodded, stiffness settling in her shoulders. Obviously everyone was overreacting, but it was hard not to be affected.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Let’s go.”

Tom drove them in an old blue Chevy and, luckily, wasn’t big on small talk. He murmured into his headset, his eyes constantly tracking their surroundings. Caro leaned back in the seat and considered what had happened. She had shifted. On purpose. And it felt…good. Caro traced her finger along her leg. The action of masquing had been as familiar as breathing, as though her body and mind were suddenly working together in a way she’d never imagined.

Would her mother have been proud? She’d never know.

They turned the corner and Caro’s thoughts turned to what she would take. There wouldn’t be time to dither. A sense of dismay overtook her when she realized that there wasn’t much in the apartment that had emotional meaning. Almost everything could be replaced with a quick trip to the mall. What kind of life had she lived since she moved here? One where she could pack up her life in less than five minutes without a problem wasn’t much to brag about.

Construction made traffic heavier than usual on College. She glanced over to see Tom’s face. He looked as calm as always but she could almost see the dislike radiating off him.

“What’s your problem?” Maria was a straight-talker and it looked like some of the masque’s trait had rubbed off on Caro. She wanted not to care, and to pass off Tom’s attitude as something out of her control and totally inexplicable. It was hard. If she could change it, she would. It was annoying to have his suspicious eyes on her at all times.

“No problem.”

“Get off it, Tom. What’s the deal? I know you don’t like me and that’s fine but at least tell me what I’ve done. I’ll apologize if I was out of line.” If being the key word. Otherwise he could go screw.

“Where were you before you came to Toronto, Caro Yeats? That’s not your real name, by the way, I at least know that much.”

The light turned red and Tom stopped the car. He looked at her with contempt in those tired eyes. “You might be able to pull that T&A shit on Eric but I’m watching you.”

Caro leaned against the car door, stunned at his snarl. “Number one, fuck you. Number two, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Were you Iverson’s bitch? That why he gave you this job?”

Caro’s mouth dropped open as Tom gunned the car through the intersection, bumping over the streetcar tracks, and it took her a moment to gather her composure. “You think I’m working with Iverson?” She nearly choked on the words as her vision narrowed.

“I know you are.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Then tell me who you are, Caro. Who you truly are.”

Her back was up now. He wasn’t going to bully her with out-of-line accusations because his Google-fu failed. “I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

His lip curled. “I thought so. One move against the Hierarch and you’ll regret it.”

Caro’s anger rose. “Don’t give me any of your pathetic threats.” Something occurred to her. “Eric doesn’t believe you, does he? That’s why you’re pissed off. There I am, right beside him. It must be killing you, Mr. Security.”

“Fuck you.”

She laughed. “Likewise.”

The rest of the drive was extremely uncomfortable. She’d put on the best face she could in front of Tom, but his disgust and dislike were painful to experience. She was out of practice, she thought wryly. Was this any worse than the countless doors that had been slammed in her face when she’d been a reporter? The time she’d had to wash the spit out of her hair?

At least Eric trusted her. It gave her the strangest feeling, almost a lightness to know that he had her back. No one had been on her side for the longest time. Would Tom be able to convince him? What proof did he have to think she was in league with Iverson? He hadn’t given her any evidence—he must be going with his extremely misinformed gut. She’d told Eric right away when Iverson had accosted her. Tom probably thought she was lying about that somehow. Anything to fit his pet theory.

She saw a sign in Spanish and felt a vague pull. She could read it—no, wait. She couldn’t. It had only felt as though the words made sense. The masque. Ignoring Tom, she gazed around, seeing things through what she began to think of as the Maria filter. Anything in Spanish caught her attention. A police car pulling alongside them forced her heart rate up. Seeing an older woman walking with heavy shopping bags made her back ache in sympathy. This wasn’t Maria, Caro reminded herself. This is you thinking as Maria. Not Maria. You are not Maria. Remember that.

When they arrived, Tom pulled into the lot and killed the engine. He refused to look at her, but his voice was all business. “You lead the way and I’m going to follow. Keep casual. Remember, no conversations, no eye contact.” His tone said, And I’ll be watching you.

Caro’s skin prickled as she got out of the car and cast her eyes around the parking lot. It was a weekday morning, so most of the cars were gone, including Maria’s, she was pleased to note. Her neighbor worked as a temp, so sometimes her hours were unpredictable.

She hadn’t realized how the masque would affect her physically. Climbing stairs was real exercise and she was breathing hard by the time she reached her floor. “Need a break,” she gasped. Tom nodded silently and gave her a minute before pointing at the door to the hall.

The hall was empty. Caro unlocked her door and walked in with a sigh of relief, then stopped as Tom began to push against her.

“Can you stay here in the hall?” she asked.

“No.”

She didn’t want him nosing around her things. “It would be better….” His suspicious glare caused her to trail off.

“Stay here,” Tom growled, and shoved roughly past her. In less than a minute, he’d done a thorough search of her apartment while she stared at her bookshelf and wondered which books to bring. Tom had given her a few shopping bags to use, saying suitcases would draw too much attention.

“Clear,” he announced, coming down the hall. “Get your things. Four minutes.”

Caro systematically ransacked the apartment, Tom close behind. Ignore the kitchen. Her knives were shit and it wasn’t like plates from IKEA were irreplaceable. From the bedroom she took underwear, her favorite jeans, a few shirts and sweaters. Three books that always comforted her came from the living room. Then she paused. A scrapbook of her clippings sat low on the shelf, almost hidden behind a box of recipes. Perhaps. She reached for it as a strange smell permeated the apartment. Not gas. Something sweet and cloying. Tom came to attention as she stood and sniffed the air, clippings forgotten.

“Do you smell that?” she asked. “Almost like baking, but medicinal.”

Tom sniffed, then his eyes widened. “Cover your mouth and nose with your shirt and breathe shallow,” he barked, yanking up his own sweater. “Team two, team two. We’ve got mineria here. Repeat, mineria attack. We’re coming out; get ready to cover.”

Mineria? What? Before she could ask, Tom grabbed Caro and hustled her out of the door, bags still clutched in her hands. One look at Tom’s face made her pray the heavier body could handle the speed they were going need to take the stairs, because she knew it was going to be fast. He kicked open the stair door and checked it before motioning her through.

“Oh!” Caro yelped as a sharp pain hit her in the back. She’d been shot. Terror struck through her as Maria’s instinctive fear of bullets kicked in. Her nephew had been shot in the leg by cops during a routine check before Caro moved in.

“They got me.” She stumbled and nearly fell against the wall as her legs gave out.

Tom glanced back and his face froze. “Man down, man down.” The words came through a hazy veil as Caro’s world turned upside down. Reaching back to the pain, she felt something sticking out of her back and pulled it out. Not a bullet, but what? Tom snatched it from her fingers and snorted. “Sedative dart. You’re going to be fine, but I need you to…”

Too late. She fell to the ground, her head smacking solidly on the concrete.

* * * *

Tom stood at rigid attention in the medical bay. The security chief’s face was carved stone. Eric stormed in. “Where is she?”

Still in Maria’s masque, Caro lay on the medical gurney, covered with a white sheet. Eric ignored Tom and took Caro’s hand. It was cold. The remains of a small goose egg on her forehead disappeared as he watched. Good. Her healing was going well, a sign that she wasn’t seriously injured.

“Report.” His gaze shot to Tom, who stared back at him.

“I warned you that Caro Yeats was not to be trusted.”

Eric didn’t believe it but he knew the evidence didn’t look good. “Tell me what happened.”

Tom gave a quick summary of what happened after they left the apartment, adding, “I sent Amit back. He found the empty mineria capsule on a motion alarm in the bedroom. I missed it because it was embedded in a painting.”

“How did they get in?”

“Amit double-checked the doors and balcony. All were secure and none showed signs of being forced.” His tone added, Obviously, since she let them in.

Eric smoothed back the rough, graying hair on Caro’s forehead. “It was meant for her,” he insisted. “She’s not safe now. They’ve targeted her.”

“The capsule was unusual, so we checked it out. It was on a dual sensor that targets motion from multiple simultaneous sources and isn’t limited to simple straight-up movement.”

“Mineria works only on masquerada,” Eric said. “So it wouldn’t trigger when she was alone?”

The security chief looked grim. “It was meant for you, while you were with her. She tried to stop me from coming into the apartment with her. She knew what was there.”

There was a long silence. “I understand what you’re thinking,” Eric said, “but you have to trust me on this. Iverson is a threat to Caro. They are not working together.” He couldn’t betray her trust by telling her story.

“Sire, I must respectfully disagree.” This time when Tom looked at Caro, it was with active dislike. “She must be neutralized.”

Caro stirred on the gurney, then settled when Eric kissed her hand. “No,” he said.

Tom’s lips thinned. “Eric, I—”

“I said no. She is under my personal protection. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sire.” Tom saluted smartly but Eric was under no illusions that his security chief would relax his vigilance. He didn’t mind. The extra attention would keep Caro safe and there was no way Tom would ignore a direct command not to harm her. They’d work through all this shit when Iverson was out of the picture. Until then, he had no proof but his gut that Caro was on his side.

She had to be. He remembered the scars and a small twinge of doubt assailed him. She’d said it was Iverson—had it been?

Jesus, stop. Why would she lie? If she wanted to hurt him, she’d already had plenty of chances. It wasn’t as if their meeting at JDPR had been premeditated. Caro didn’t have any ulterior motives.

“We don’t have much time until the raids on Iverson,” Eric said. “Maybe we should move up that timeline.”

Stephan came into the medical bay, his forehead creased. “Is Caro okay?”

“She’s fine,” Eric assured him. “Healing.”

Stephan and Tom exchanged looks but Eric decided not to comment. “Tom, any more details on her background?”

“The report is ready.”

“Good. What did it say?”

Before Tom could answer, Caro’s eyes fluttered and she raised her hand to her head. “Wow. I feel weird.”

Eric was at her side before he eyes were fully open. “Caro?”

“Eric. That smell.” Her eyes widened in alarm. “Where I am? What’s happening?”

“It’s okay,” he soothed her. “You’re at the house. You were hit by a sedative dart and you might feel a bit groggy for an hour or two.”

She struggled to sit up. “I’m still Maria.”

“We keep our masques until we consciously shift back.” Eric smoothed her hair off her forehead, grateful she was awake and lucid. “Self-defense mechanism so we don’t shift accidently in front of statics if we’re incapacitated.”

“I want to turn back.” Her voice was strong, but he could see that she was frightened that she would be imprisoned in Maria’s masque forever.

“Of course,” he said, in a cold sweat. Even the thought of watching Caro masque back made him nervous. This was bad. Extremely bad. He tried to ignore it. “Do you remember how—”

She was Caro before he finished the sentence. Stephan gave a low whistle. “That was fast,” he congratulated her.

“I thought it would be harder.” She looked down at her arms and peered at her chest. “Do I look like me?”

Maria’s flowered shirt fell off her shoulders, revealing her lush breasts. Tom and Stephan each spun away to look anywhere else while Eric grabbed a blanket and threw it over her shoulders, tucking it around tightly, to keep her warm.

Right. He glared at Tom and Stephan, who were still, obviously, not looking at Caro.

“Pass me that water, please,” Caro said and Eric passed it to her, but not before seeing Tom’s disapproval at how close he was to her. His security chief was wary and ready to intervene the moment he thought Eric was at risk.

She drank it down, then ran her fingers through her hair and over her face as though to confirm she was back to herself. Satisfied, she looked at Eric. “What happened back there?”

Tom explained again, his nose to the ceiling and she nodded. Eric looked between the two of them. The tension was so thick that he could almost see it. What else had happened on that trip? He’d ask them later, once Caro was better. And separately. This was more than the result of Tom’s usual suspicion.

“Explain what that gas is,” Caro said. “Mineria, you called it.”

“It’s basically ether for masquerada.” Eric gave her more water. “It knocks us unconscious. We discovered it about six hundred years ago and it’s difficult to find and extremely expensive to try and make.”

“Iverson might have a lab,” Stephan mused.

Tom nodded. “I’m issuing masks to the patrols.”

“Did you get who shot me with the dart?” Caro asked. “Why did they have them if that mineria was supposed to knock me out?”

“Negative; and tranqs were probably to get any of our security who interfered.”

“You think it was Iverson.” Her voice wavered and Eric slid an arm around her shoulders.

Now Tom looked at her. “Almost certainly his people, but they weren’t necessarily after you. We think their target was the Hierarch.”

“That I was him?”

“Possibly. It’s a waste of time to speculate on motive, though. Better to focus on what we know.”

“Which is they know I’m a masquerada and I’m with you.”

“Using the information from that particular incident, they definitely know that you are connected with the Hierarch but not necessarily that you are a masquerada,” Tom corrected sharply. “It’s a reasonable assumption, but they wouldn’t be able to confirm that the woman they shot with the dart was you, unless you told them. It could be another member of the Hierarch’s security team.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” She jerked up from the pillow and glared at him. “I didn’t even know I was going back this morning.”

Eric could see the wheels turning in Caro’s head and knew her conclusion would be the same as his. He wasn’t surprised at her next question.

“You told me that masquerada can sense each other.” She waited for Eric’s confirmation to continue. “Can you recognize specific individuals?”

“Only as we become more familiar with them,” Eric said. “By now I can always recognize Tom and Stephan, and they can always recognize me no matter what masques we’re inhabiting. Strangers, no. They wouldn’t know that the woman they shot with the dart was you if they ran across you in a different form.”

“You use your masque-dar to sense each other. But what’s to stop someone from looking like one of your staff and coming in?”

“We have security checks. There are some things we can’t change, the rhythm of our pulse, for instance. We also use old-fashioned code words.”

“Like a speakeasy?” She laughed, then grimaced and put her hand to her head, then leaned back on the bed. Eric stood nearby, pleased to see that her pallor was fading. He tried to force thoughts of masquing out of his mind. It was like trying not to think about pink elephants.

“I want out of here,” she said abruptly. “I’m not sick.”

Eric nodded, wanting her out of the medical bay as well. “As soon as the medic says you’re good to go.”

“Get her in here, then,” Caro ordered. “I want out.”