Copper Veins(71)

“Show us your mark,” I demanded.

“What?” Dad countered, taking a step back. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“I’d like to see my father’s mark.”

“Sara, this is not appropriate—”

“Why are you so cold to Mom?” I interjected. Dad shut his mouth with an audible clack. “It’s because you can’t let her get too close, isn’t it? She’ll see that you don’t have a mark, and then she’ll know that you aren’t really our dad.”

“Sara, please—”

In an instant, Micah was across the room, his hands around Not-My-Dad’s throat. “Shapeshifter,” Micah growled. “How dare you infiltrate my home. How dare you use those I love.” Not-Dad pawed at Micah’s hands, his face reddening and his eyes bulging. “Drop this ill-gotten guise, or I will force it from you.”

Not-Dad refused to comply, so Micah knocked his head into the wall. As the shapeshifter slipped from consciousness, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he slid down to the floor, he reverted to his true form, that of a slovenly, gray-skinned creature of indeterminate gender.

Mom rose from her seat, slowly approaching the creature that had impersonated her husband. “Abomination,” she murmured. “A vile, vile abomination.” She raised her hand, sparks dancing among her fingers, but before she could strike, physically or magically, Max leapt forward and caught her hand.

“Might need him, Ma,” he warned. “Maybe for intel, maybe as a hostage.”

Mom nodded and lowered her hand. “I’ve waited sixteen years—my vengeance can wait another day or two. But not much longer.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, staring at the shapeshifter. “Some part of me knew he was not my Beau, but I wanted him returned to me so badly, so badly I…”

She turned toward the wall, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Well, Micah?” she asked over her shoulder. “What shall we do with the beast?”

Micah summoned the silverkin, who appeared in an instant. “Remove this creature to the dungeon,” he ordered. The silverkin hauled the shapeshifter away, leaving the rest of us standing in the sitting room, minds reeling over what had just occurred.

“The manor has a dungeon?” Sadie murmured. “Who knew?”

“Sure does,” I murmured, remembering our other unwanted guest. “And boy, is it getting full.”





30


In the chaos that followed the shapeshifter’s removal, we truly acted like we’d lost it, and let’s face it, the Corbeaus have never excelled at keeping it together. Max was swearing a blue streak, alternating between grumbling about Juliana’s presence at the manor and our family being infiltrated by our false father. Even Sadie—calm, even-tempered Sadie—trembled with rage. As for me, I wondered, loudly, how any of us were dumb enough to fall for that routine, especially me. Through it all, Mom just sat there, staring at her hands.

“I guess Dad really is gone,” I murmured to Micah, watching Mom’s forlorn form. “At least that jerk wasn’t him.” Micah grunted, silver brows drawn low over his eyes. I wondered if he’d even heard me.

“What do we know of shapeshifters?” Micah asked suddenly. I blinked at him, since really, we mortals knew very little of them. “A shifter, even a strong one, can only hold a false form for a day, perhaps two. Then the edges blur somewhat, and he must be in the presence of his target again.”

“All the times he just disappeared, taking those stupid walks,” I concluded. “He was going off to look at a picture of Dad. He couldn’t do it here, since we’d wonder why he was staring at a picture of himself.”

“Not a picture,” Micah said, shaking his head. “A shifter cannot assume the form of anything other than a living creature.” Micah stared at Mom as he spoke, her head rising as she understood.

“Beau’s alive,” she gasped.

“And within walking distance of the manor,” Micah said.

“We must organize a search,” Mom said. “We will canvas the area, knock on every door if we have to, but I will find my husband.”

“Why don’t we just talk to Juliana?” Sadie asked. When Max and I both glared at her, she elaborated, “I mean, she is a Peacekeeper. She probably knows a thing or two.”

“A sound plan,” Micah murmured while I grumbled about how I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than speak to Juliana. In spite of my opinions, a few of the silverkin were sent to fetch her. Not five minutes later, they escorted Juliana into the parlor.