Shifters (Shifters series Book 1) (17 page)

I frown. I’m liking this woman less and less as this conversation goes on. “That doesn
’
t seem like a very nice thing to say about your own daughter,” I mutter.

The woman looks at me and strokes my hair. “Come, dear,” she pulls me away from Kai. “Let
’
s get you all cleaned up. You
’
re quite beautiful. The way I always imagined my daughter would be.”

I look back at Kai, begging him for help with my eyes, but he’s talking to the father now.

“What’s your name?” I venture, hoping this is a safe topic.

“My name is Aleksandria Almasta,” she says with a smile.

She drags me to a bathroom upstairs where she strips the dye from my hair, returning it to its natural golden blond. She makes me remove my color contacts, revealing my sapphire blue eyes. Then, she has me shower.

When I’m finished, she dresses me in a soft, clingy blue dress that highlights my emerging figure. “Don
’
t you think this is a little much?” I ask hesitantly. I mean, I’m thirteen. I look eighteen with her makeover.

“Of course not, dear,” she says vainly. “This is how I looked at your age.”

As much as I despise her and the way she
’
s preening me, I hope that’s true. I would love to look like her when I
’
m in my forties.

“So, your sons are fifteen?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Eighteen, actually. I know—I look way too young,” she says.

I want out of here.

Chapter 27

Breaking NBC News

–TANNER–

Okay, I know why we came here, and all of the crazy stuff they have in their dining room is really cool. But I see Devon—I really love the sound of her name—sneaking into the kitchen. I step into the next room, which is kind of a family room, dining area, and kitchen all in one. I watch as she fills a glass in the fridge door and turns around.

“Hi,” I say.

She almost drops the full glass as she jumps back a step. A small splash of water hits the ground in front of her. I rush to grab a paper towel from the counter and lean down to wipe it up before someone slips. Devon is backing away from me like I’m going to attack.

I smile as I stand up and look for the kitchen trash, “It
’
s okay. Where can I . . . ?”

She stops backing away and points under the sink.

I open the cupboard, dispose of the wet paper towel, and say, “Devon, right?”

She’s nodding her head like I’m the first person to ever talk to her. She furrows her beautiful brow and asks, “Why . . . why are you talking to me?”

I tilt my head, not quite understanding the question. “Why wouldn
’
t I be talking to you?”

“People don
’
t usually . . .” she says. “No one really . . .”

“Nobody really what?”

“Nothing. I
’
m sorry about the spill,” she says as she hurries out the opposite door.

I follow her as she quickly walks to the back porch. She tries to close the door, and I barely catch it. “Did I do something wrong?” I say, standing in the doorway.

She sits down on the porch swing and looks at the ground. “No, I guess not. It
’
s just people don
’
t usually”—she looks up—“notice me.”

I gesture to the seat next to her. She gives me a quick nod and looks back at the ground. “I find that hard to believe,” I say lowering my face, trying to make eye contact. “There
’
s no way I could’ve missed you,” I say, gently touching her chin to turn her face to mine. I catch another glint of her beautiful eyes glowing in the moonlight and smile. “
You’re
so . . . beautiful.”

She looks at me like she doesn
’
t know what I just said. She furrows her brow again and opens her mouth like she
’
s going to talk, but nothing comes out. She closes her mouth before frowning. Then she says curtly, “Did they tell you to say that?” She turns from me and says, “
Well, it
’
s not funny!”

I have no idea what’s happening. I just told this amazing girl she
’
s beautiful, and she acts like I told her something bad. Is this how girls are?

“What?” I say quickly. “Who are you talking about?”

“My brothers . . . my mom! Whoever!” she says sharply. “Tell them I
’
m tired of it,” she pleads as she starts crying. “I know I
’
m not beautiful like my mom or super smart like my brothers. I can
’
t help what I am,” she explains, now sobbing openly.

I get down on my knees directly in front of her, look her in the eyes, and tell her, “Nobody told me anything. When I saw you on the porch, I couldn
’
t believe what I saw.” She lowers her cry to a whimper. I reach up to wipe a tear from her cheek, saying, “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You don
’
t have to say that,” she tells me, wiping her cheeks with her palms.

“I do. Devon, when I saw your eyes and your perfect nose and those lovely lips, I was speechless.”

“I know what I look like. My mom always tells me she wishes I were more like her.”

I brush a wisp of hair from her eyes and caress her cheek with my thumb, saying, “Your skin is absolutely amazing.”

She shakes her head and pulls away from me, saying, “That
’
s why they always made fun of me.”

“Why?”

“These terrible freckles. When people did notice me, when I was younger, they made fun of my skin,” she answers.

“Stupid kids. I think they’re amazing,” I say as I take her hand and stand up. She stands up with me, and I ask, “Will you come inside with me?”

She sniffs a final time, rubs her face with her free hand, and says, “Okay.”

We walk back into the house and head to the main dining room where we hear all kinds of talking. When we walk into the room, Kyle is explaining about some kind of game blocker. Solé gives me a quick smile, and the two brothers have a quizzical look on their faces. Seriously, did no one notice the gorgeous redhead holding my hand?

I don’
t see Ryland anywhere, but there
’
s this tall red-haired guy now. He looks just like the weird twins only about twenty years older. I assume he’s their dad.

“Tanner, why did we come here?” Kai asks.

I didn
’
t really look before, but they have all sorts of screens and computers and stuff. It looks like some kind of command center or something.

“We need to find out what
’
s going on out there and try to find some people,” I tell them.

“Oh, you have to see this. You guys are famous,” Jaydin or Jaylon, I can
’
t really tell, says as he sits down at one of the control centers.

He pulls up all kinds of YouTube, Twitter, Vine, and Facebook windows all over a series of screens. This place is seriously cool.

“I had them apply some facial recognition and string search algorithms to track the posts,” the older guy says. “Oh, I
’
m Ryan,” he says reaching his hand out to me. I shake his hand, and he says, “These are the Js. They
’
re my boys. I see you’ve already met Devon.”

One of the Js starts playing posted videos of Ryland. The flying video with Kyle
’
s cop father has over ten million hits. I look at Kyle when they show Ryland
’
s fist taking out his dad. I thought he would be mad, but he actually has a smirk on his face.

They start showing other videos with young teenagers doing all kinds of strange things. There are other Flyers, some are of kids levitating things, and others are causing waves in swimming pools. There are also a bunch of videos showing young people vanishing and appearing in other places.

On some other screens, there is news footage of scientists studying the videos, trying to explain these strange occurrences. The word
hoax
appears below most of the news screens.

“I guess the secret
’
s out,
” Kai says, looking around at all of the screens.

“Check this out,” one of the Js says, pulling up a Twitter page. “And these aren’t the only ones,” he says, showing several Ryland fan pages.

“Whoa!” I say looking at what people are writing. She’s all over the Internet.

“Can you find people?” I ask. “Like certain people?”

Both of the Js smirk.

“Sis?” one of them says, looking at Devon and motioning to a chair at one of the command centers. “She can find anybody.”

Devon looks at me and takes a seat that appears to be made to fit her perfect frame. She pulls up some screen and gazes at me with her perfect face, asking, “Who are you looking for?”

After a while we find the girls that posted pictures of me from KFC. I have her send each of them a message. We find Rick and Jon, who were held overnight after our escape from 334 and send them a message.

“What about them?” I ask, pointing to the Ryland fans.

Devon smiles and asks, “Which ones?”

“All of them.”

“Sure,” she says. “What do you want to say?”

I really hadn
’
t thought this far out. Now everyone is looking at me.

“Tell them—” I start to say.

“Tell them, ‘This is Ryland,’” Ryland says from the stairs. “‘I need your help. Reply if you are unafraid.’”

On the stairway, there’s a plain looking, middle-aged woman standing next to my sister. At least, I think it
’
s my sister. She
’
s wearing this blue dress that makes her look way older than she should. The boys stare with their mouths hanging open like Miss Universe was in their living room.

Devon opens some programming screen, types the message, and clicks send. She turns around and asks, “Now what?”

“I need to make a call,”
I answer.

–RYLAND–

So, I’m completely self-conscious. This dress is ridiculous. Seriously, I think its like Gucci or something. It clings and hugs my body in a revealing way I don
’
t usually go for.

I
’
m not self conscious because I don
’
t think I look good. I
’
m not Aphrodite, but I know I
’
m attractive. I just normally don
’
t try to draw extra attention to that. I don
’
t like being ogled and whatnot.

Tanner disappears pretty much immediately, which is fine, seeing as no one is looking at him. I try to give Aleksandria—God, even her name is pretentious—the dirtiest look I can muster, but she isn
’
t even paying attention. I will say the closer I look, the less attractive she appears. She
’
s already dropped from Victoria
’
s Secret down to JCPenney catalogue.

“So,” I say, awkwardly trying to change the subject from the silent one now going through everyone’s
minds.
“What exactly are we up to?”

Kai shakes his head slightly before answering. “Well, Tanner was trying to, uh—” He can
’
t quite complete his sentence, like he isn
’
t really focused on what he’s saying.

“We
’
re setting up a communications and support network,” Devon answers shyly.

Now that I look at her, really look, she isn
’
t as plain as I thought. Her kind, green eyes are actually pretty. I smile back at her.

“That
’
s why you
’
re communicating with my . . . did you say fans? I have fans?” I ask in complete shock. I mean, I used to daydream about being a movie star or something, but I never really imagined I would be. Just a few weeks ago, Peanut and I were pretending to be movie stars in the living room. We were dressed up in old Halloween costumes. She was wearing a hot pink boa and green sunglasses while we sang along to the radio as loudly as we could and danced through the living room like we were on stage.

Thinking about Peanut makes my throat tighten and my eyes water. I miss my little sister.

“Yeah,” the twins say simultaneously.

“Your flying video has over ten million hits,” Kyle finishes.

“My flying video?” I ask, approaching the massive wall of screens.

They play the YouTube video, making my eyes widen in shock. It
’
s from Kyle
’
s hometown. What was that called? His dad’s shooting at me, and suddenly I’m flying.

I understand now why this video has been watched so many times. It looks like a scene from an action movie. Even dirty and disheveled, I look like an action star flying through the air. The bullets and cop car look so real. Which, of course, they were.

I look at the comments. A lot of people are calling it a hoax. I get that. Some people are asking if it
’
s a released scene from a new superhero flick. Most people, though, are saying they support me and Tanner.

People all over the world are cheering me on, rooting for me. I can
’
t help but feel slightly awed by this, that something I
’
ve done is inspiring this kind of response. Maybe I really could be a superhero.

“Breaking news,” one of the Js says, pulling up a new window.

This time it’s NBC News live. My flying video is playing. “Turn it up,” I say.

“This video of the fugitive Ryland Ascunse is inspiring many strange posts. The internet is buzzing with similar hoaxes,” a forty-year-old female newscaster in a disgusting hot pink blazer says.

More videos are played. There are kids, between eleven and eighteen, doing all sorts of incredible things. They’re vanishing on screen and reappearing in the distance. They’re manipulating matter with their minds, making it move.

The word
hoax
remains at the bottom of the screen as the videos play. “We encourage our viewers to avoid making or watching such videos. These fugitives should not be imitated by the public.” She sounds disinterested and slightly disgusted by the taste of my name in her mouth. “Ryland Ascunse is a fugitive wanted for murder, not some sort of superhero or movie star.”

I laugh as the camera quickly pans away. Clearly, the network is not pleased with her reporting. A suit appears on screen, and Kyle
’
s jaw drops.

“What is it?” I hiss.

“That’s Carl Marques. He’s the head of our organization,” he says in complete awe. “If he’s involved in this,” he shakes his head, “this is huge.”

I turn back to the screen as he begins to speak. “My name is Carl Marques, lead investigator from the FBI regarding the Ascunse case.” He speaks slowly in a calm, cold tone. Each syllable is emphasized perfectly, almost inhumanly.

“We highly encourage our citizens to avoid such dangerous stunts,” he continues. “We would hate for any of our citizens, particularly the younger viewers, to injure themselves imitating a video that is clearly doctored.”

I scoff. “That video is completely natural.”

He flashes a charming smile that makes me shudder. I realize this man is a snake, cold, cunning, and cruel. “I can assure the public that, although the Ascunse children are armed and dangerous, they are not enhanced in any way. They are simply unhappy children who came from an unhappy home. They need our help. Please, if you see either Tanner or Ryland, contact the FBI and your local authorities immediately.”

My whole body goes cold. He sounds so reasonable, so rational. Any normal person would heed his words.

I feel my stomach clench and shudder. We’re not children from an unhappy family, and we’re most certainly
not
armed and dangerous. We just don
’
t want to be killed.