“That you’re dealing with shifters capable of full-body shifts,” he said. “Hell, there might only be one shifter, not two, and he or she is able to take on both male and female form.”
I wrinkled my nose. “We did think of that, but full-body shifters are extremely rare. And I’ve never heard of any shifter being able to change their sex.”
“Hermaphrodites are rare, but they can and do exist. What if we were dealing with one of those?”
If we were dealing with a hermaphrodite capable of full shifting, then heaven help us, because they’d be next to impossible to find.
“It could explain why Nadler listed Harry Bulter, Jim O’Reilly, and Genevieve Sands in his will,” Stane continued. “He was hedging his bets and relying on the fact that most people think shifters are human-to-animal capable, not human-to-human.”
Nadler was the man behind the company who’d purchased most of the properties surrounding the ley-line intersection. In fact, only Stane’s shop and the pub down the road remained independent. He was also, more than likely, one of the sorcerers.
I glanced at Stane briefly. “So have you found either Bulter or O’Reilly?”
Stane shook his head. “No. And I’ve been keeping an eye on the solicitors handling his estate – they haven’t tracked them down, either.”
“Well, they have to have existed at some point, because Nadler couldn’t just appear out of nowhere as one of them and expect to be handed everything on a platter.”
“Totally,” Stane said. “Which is why I’ve been searching overseas databases. Not having much luck, though.”
That seemed to be the story of this whole damn quest. I sighed and continued watching the images scroll across the screen as the time in the left-hand corner of the screen counted down toward the explosion at the storage place. At the twenty-minutes-before mark, my double strolled into view.
“Well,” Stane said. “You were right.”
Yes. And it was somewhat disturbing to look at the woman on the screen, knowing the face and body were the image of mine but someone else was inside the shell. Hell, she was even dressed like I was most of the time these days, in blue jeans and a tank top. My gaze skimmed down to her feet.
“Holy shit, the shoes.”
I leaned forward so abruptly that coffee splashed over the rim of my mug and splattered onto my legs. I swore and jumped up, spilling yet more coffee. Azriel plucked the mug from my hand – thereby preventing more damage to either me or Stane’s floor – while I quickly pulled the soaked dress away from my skin to prevent further burning.
“You okay?” Stane asked. “Do you want a cloth or something?”
“I’m fine,” I said, flapping the dress a little to cool it down. “Just freeze the screen and enlarge her feet.”
He did so. “I don’t see anything special about the shoes, aside from the fact they’re kinda ugly.”
“What’s special about them,” I said, “is the fact I not only saw those same shoes on Genevieve Sands when we were talking to her outside the storage place earlier in the day, but in one of the boxes those shifters were moving out of Lauren Macintyre’s wardrobe.”
“Thereby confirming she is indeed our face shifter,” Azriel murmured.
“I wouldn’t call a pair of shoes a defining piece of evidence,” Stane said. “It’s not like a thousand other women couldn’t have had the same bad taste.”
“Agreed, but I just can’t buy the coincidence factor in this particular case.”
“But you’d think someone canny enough to be involved in the planning of this gate-creation and key-stealing venture would be smart enough to remember to change a pair of shoes when she was changing identity.”
“Not if the decision to impersonate Risa and blow up the storage unit was a decision made in haste after we’d confronted her outside that building,” Azriel commented.
“I still wouldn’t bank my fortune on the evidence of one pair of shoes,” Stane said.
“Perhaps she just didn’t think anyone would notice them.” After all, from what Aunt Riley had said over the years, witnesses often had trouble agreeing on what suspects looked like, let alone the smaller details of what they were wearing, like shoes.
Stane studied the image frozen onto the screen for a moment. “Suspecting this shifter is both Sands and Macintyre doesn’t actually leave us any closer to finding any of them.”
“No.” I stood up and began to pace. “How the hell are we going to find someone who can change their features at will?”
“Your only real hope is to chase the paper trail,” Stane said. “Both Macintyre and Sands own properties. Perhaps our best bet is to track both purchases, and see if there’s a common link. Maybe a company they both went through or something.”
I nodded. It was probably a long shot, but it was better than doing nothing. “While you’re doing that, check for a bloke named Michael Greenfield or a company called Pénombre Manufacturing. They own an empty warehouse in Maribyrnong that just happens to be sitting on another ley line. Jak” – I hesitated as tears stung my eyes again; I blinked them away and cleared my throat before continuing – “wasn’t able to find much about them.”