“Mrs. Hamm, can you describe more what the Ryders looked like, if you remember?” I asked. Wade took out a small notepad and a pen.
“Um. You could tell they were twins. Identical features. Round faces, blue eyes, light blond hair. Both about 5’9”. Gray suits, white shirts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? Do you think they had something to do with our Marge’s disappearance?” Anna asked.
“No, no. Just gathering details, like I said. Everything helps at this point,” Wade answered quickly. Given their human status, I understood that there was no point in giving them any magical-related information at this point in time.
Still surprised by the photograph’s effect on my Empathic senses, I decided to explore this new avenue. “Mrs. Hamm, I’ll be right back. I need to have a look at your daughter’s room.” I left the living room and rushed upstairs.
Raffe was just coming down.
“Anything?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll brief you all outside. Don’t want the Hamms hearing this,” he said, then went downstairs and joined Wade and Marjorie’s parents.
I found Santana in Marjorie’s room, stuffing one of the charm bags under her bed. She got up, then exhaled sharply. “I had my Orishas check the place out. Something weird happened here, Harley,” she murmured.
“Define weird, because the Ryders were here. This time, however, they interacted with both the human parents and the magical kid on her own,” I replied.
Santana stilled, her eyes wide. “Crap. Like with Kenneth Willow’s family.”
I nodded. “They came on Wednesday evening. By Friday afternoon, Marjorie was missing,” I said. “Something tells me she ran away, but not to join the Ryders,” I added, showing her the picture I’d brought up with me. “The weirdest thing happened. I don’t know how else to explain it, but I can feel Marjorie’s emotions just by touching this photo.”
Santana blinked several times. “That’s not weird. Some good Empaths do that.”
“Oh. I didn’t remember reading that anywhere.”
“It’s rare. It’s in some footnote, somewhere in Ickes’s manuals,” Santana replied. “So, what did you pick up?”
“Dread, Santana. Fear like nothing I’ve sensed before. Well, except maybe the time I had gargoyles trying to eat me.”
“You think she ran to get away from the Ryders?” Santana asked.
I moved around the room, trying to get a feel for the place. It was oozing similar emotions to the photograph. Marjorie was afraid—not just for her life, but for the Hamms’, too.
“I’m almost positive, but obviously I won’t know for sure until we find her and talk to her,” I said. “What did your Orishas pick up?”
Santana smirked. “Pretty much the same as you. Some were Empaths when they were alive, and they still have the gift, I guess. Something scared Marjorie so badly that she had to get out.”
I nodded, taking a moment to recall the differences between Santana’s and Tatyana’s abilities as I moved to the window. Santana’s Orishas were former spirits of magicals that had transcended to a higher level, maintaining their glowing, shapeless forms. She didn’t talk to them, since the exchange of information was done on a different level, well beyond our comprehension. She simply knew what they picked up, and she’d spent years forming a permanent relationship with these entities. Tatyana, on the other hand, was a mere communicator with spirits, magical or human. The more powerful ones were able to possess her, lending her their abilities. But her interactions were always passing, never as permanent or as deep as Santana’s connection to her Orishas.
I liked them both, because they offered different insights and assistance. I stopped by the window, running my fingers over a curtain bow.
Movement in the backyard caught my eye. I froze, unsure of what I was seeing. Someone was hiding behind a sturdy palm tree, curiously watching me as I stood by the window. I narrowed my eyes and stifled a yelp when I recognized him: Jacob! The Smiths’ new foster kid.
“You okay?” Santana asked.
“Uh, y-yes,” I replied, giving her a quick glance. “Yeah, I just…” I shifted my focus back to the garden.
Jacob was gone.
“I… I thought I saw something,” I said.
Where did he go?
Or did I just imagine it?
I remained staring out the window for another long moment, but when Jacob didn’t appear again, I heaved a sigh and turned away from the window.
“Anyway, something nefarious definitely went down here,” I murmured.
The vision of Jacob nagged me, and I decided to stop by the Smiths’ place again today. Whether I’d imagined it or not, it didn’t hurt to check in on the Smiths and see what he was up to. I could easily play the part of the concerned foster sibling—which I technically was, anyway. My instinct was telling me something… though I wasn’t sure what.
We left the Hamms with the assurance that we’d do everything in our power to find Marjorie. Wade gave them his card, and as soon as we were outside, he called the coven.
“Send a complete cleanup crew to the Hamms’ place. They’re human parents, and the kid has gone missing,” he said. “Yes, wipe their memories, too. It’s in their best interests at this point. I’ll send you some details about the girl. The Ryder twins are involved… Yeah, put out an APB on her. Marjorie Phillips. Aha. Cool, thank you.”
After he hung up, we stopped by the Jeep to catch up.
“So, remember how the djinn picks up on the energy of something that happened in a place?” Raffe asked, looking at Wade. “Any kind of tragedy or difficult, painful decision. Anything that stirred grief and suffering, in general.”
“Uh-huh,” Wade replied, as Raffe had his full attention.
I had no clue what they were talking about. “What djinn?” I asked.
Raffe smiled. “I’ll explain at some point, I promise. This whole Ryder twins issue is more important and demands our full attention,” he said. I understood then that the djinn had something to do with his magical abilities, and I figured it was better not to pursue this now. He was right. We had bigger fish to fry. “Something bad happened in that house. Something made Marjorie leave.”
“And it wasn’t an easy decision,” I replied, corroborating his and Santana’s findings. “We’re all picking up on the same thing here, albeit differently. I’m getting mine directly from a photo of her. The feelings are so dark, so intense… It’s mind-boggling.”
“You’re reading from a picture now?” Wade asked, raising an eyebrow. He was quite impressed.
I shrugged. “Yeah… I don’t know why it’s happening with Marjorie, but it doesn’t matter. Point is, she was scared out of her mind, Wade.”
“The Ryders probably freaked her out,” Santana replied.
“Another thing bothers me,” I said. “The Ryders’ description. It doesn’t match the photo we have, or what the other parents said.”
Wade gave me an appreciative nod. “You’re right. The descriptions don’t match. The names are different from one family to another, too. These aren’t different people. These are different personas altogether.”
“Oh, crap,” Santana gasped.
“Shapeshifters,” Raffe concluded.
Wade agreed. Shivers ran through me, making me tremble. I had flashbacks of Finch shifting into Clara Fairmont, the bubblegum blonde witch that Wade had briefly dated. I let out a frustrated groan.
“Not again,” I grumbled.
“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Wade said. “Different people, similar scenarios. I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll bet they’re both Shapeshifters.”
“It wasn’t in their file,” Santana replied.
Wade shrugged. “This wouldn’t be the first or the last time that magicals would go to great lengths to conceal their Shapeshifting abilities after a Reading, and most covens accommodate that request. You know how our people tend to frown upon Shapeshifters in general. It’s a terrible stigma to have, and centuries of progress haven’t changed that mindset. People still don’t trust them.”
“No offense, but with the likes of Finch and the Ryders, I’m not surprised.” I sighed, crossing my arms and leaning against the Jeep.
“The Ryders are doing things a little differently, though. It’s like they’re teasing us, leaving enough room for us to connect the dots and realize they’re around here somewhere, prowling,” Santana said. “It’s like they want us to know it’s them, and that they’re Shapeshifters. At least, that’s how I see it. Either way, Shapeshifters are always such a pain.”
“Some are difficult to detect, too,” Wade explained. “A Reading can miss the ability, if it’s carried out by a less capable physician, though that’s extremely rare. I don’t know why, exactly, but Krieger can better explain that part. Point is, Shapeshifters aren’t all that common, and most of them manage to keep their ability a secret. Some, as clearly demonstrated by Finch and the Ryders so far, do bad things. We have to find them.”
“Oh, yeah. It’ll be a breeze to find two people who can basically turn into anyone.” I chuckled bitterly.
Raffe grinned. “There may be something about them that would work in our favor,” he said. “Shifting is a very painful and complex process—the first time around, when there’s a new persona to… put on. If they’re shifting into personas they’ve done before, it’s not as bad. Therefore, it would make sense that they use a limited number of identities they’ve morphed into before.”
Santana narrowed her eyes at him, as if processing the information. “So, we’d need to keep an eye on the descriptions that the parents give us, to spot a repeat identity.”
“Exactly. Like I said, it hurts like hell to shift into someone new, but once the magical’s body memorizes that identity, it gets easier. It makes sense for them to use two, maybe three personas at most, for whatever it is they’re trying to do,” Raffe replied. “On top of their real appearance, that is.”