breakfast we can probably make it back before classes start,” I agree, heading for my closet. “Give me five minutes. I’m going with you. There are still too many questions and not enough answers.”
**********
Keegan watches the video as Shaye explains everything that’s happened. We’re sitting in his cramped apartment over the barn. I’ve never been up here before and I can’t help but take a curious look around as he and Shaye hang over the computer. I guess it’s a typical bachelor pad. The leather couch where I sit is worn but comfortable, and the coffee table is littered with magazines, books, and one very dirty ashtray. Eww . How did I not know Keegan was a smoker? He’s just dropped a notch in my book, but it must not bother Shaye. Judging by the overflowing ashtray and the pile of crusty work boots by the door, it doesn’t look like he’s a big fan of cleaning either. Then again, he probably doesn’t need to. I doubt he gets much company up here.
Keegan doesn’t say much at first. He just watches and listens as Shaye hovers anxiously at his side. He looks about as perplexed as I feel.
“Aye, it does seem fishy,” Keegan says, dragging a hand through his braided hair thoughtfully. He’s a good looking guy with creamy dark skin and penetrating eyes, but it’s his Irish accent that I like best. Everything he says sounds like poetry. I could listen to him talk for hours. “Perhaps there is a solution you’ve not considered.”
“Such as?” I ask. I like Keegan and value his opinion, but I’m not sure what we could have missed. We all watched the same video and it seemed pretty self-explanatory.
“Perhaps it was not your Dr. Philips who did this,” he says eyeing Shaye. He’s worried about her too and I’m starting to suspect she’s told him more about her current condition than she’s told me. He pauses for an eternity and I wonder if he’s afraid to voice his thoughts for fear of getting her hopes up. When he finally offers up his theory, it’s a wild one. “Perhaps it was a shifter.”
“Huh?” Shaye and I ask in unison. Our American English isn’t at all poetic, but at least I’m not the only one in the dark. I have no idea what he’s talking about and neither does Shaye.
“A being who can assume the appearance of another,” he explains. “They’re extremely rare and equally dangerous.”
“No way,” I say, thinking his suggestion is BS. It’s kind of hard not to be skeptical. Shifters? Beings that can turn into anyone they choose? It sounds pretty farfetched. Maybe Keegan’s been hitting the whiskey a little too hard. Then again, I would have said the same thing about vamps two years ago. Still, I’ve never heard of a shifter and it sounds impossible.
“It’s the only rational explanation if you believe this Philips was being truthful with you,” he tells Shaye. He cups her chin gently and tilts her head so that she’s looking directly at him. “Do you believe he was being truthful?”
“Yes.” She says the word without hesitation. “And I’m never wrong.”
“Okay,” I say, crossing my arms. Shaye’s bought into Keegan’s theory hook, line and sinker, so it’s up to me to play devil’s advocate. Fortunately, I have lots of practice. “Say that shifters do exist. What would it even want with the cure? What’s the point? The theft is high risk and has no personal value.”
“Think about it,” Keegan tells us. “That cure is worth big money, both to The Dwyer Group and apparently to whoever hired this guy to steal it.”
“So you think someone hired a shifter to steal the cure?” Shaye asks. “That’s just sick.”
“But it fits,” I say as his theory takes shape. “While the Linkuri are tracking Philips, the real thief is probably laughing his ass off.”
“What do we do now?” Shaye asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply. I consider calling Aldo, but he’s already made it clear that he doesn’t want me involved. After all,
**********
Keegan watches the video as Shaye explains everything that’s happened. We’re sitting in his cramped apartment over the barn. I’ve never been up here before and I can’t help but take a curious look around as he and Shaye hang over the computer. I guess it’s a typical bachelor pad. The leather couch where I sit is worn but comfortable, and the coffee table is littered with magazines, books, and one very dirty ashtray. Eww . How did I not know Keegan was a smoker? He’s just dropped a notch in my book, but it must not bother Shaye. Judging by the overflowing ashtray and the pile of crusty work boots by the door, it doesn’t look like he’s a big fan of cleaning either. Then again, he probably doesn’t need to. I doubt he gets much company up here.
Keegan doesn’t say much at first. He just watches and listens as Shaye hovers anxiously at his side. He looks about as perplexed as I feel.
“Aye, it does seem fishy,” Keegan says, dragging a hand through his braided hair thoughtfully. He’s a good looking guy with creamy dark skin and penetrating eyes, but it’s his Irish accent that I like best. Everything he says sounds like poetry. I could listen to him talk for hours. “Perhaps there is a solution you’ve not considered.”
“Such as?” I ask. I like Keegan and value his opinion, but I’m not sure what we could have missed. We all watched the same video and it seemed pretty self-explanatory.
“Perhaps it was not your Dr. Philips who did this,” he says eyeing Shaye. He’s worried about her too and I’m starting to suspect she’s told him more about her current condition than she’s told me. He pauses for an eternity and I wonder if he’s afraid to voice his thoughts for fear of getting her hopes up. When he finally offers up his theory, it’s a wild one. “Perhaps it was a shifter.”
“Huh?” Shaye and I ask in unison. Our American English isn’t at all poetic, but at least I’m not the only one in the dark. I have no idea what he’s talking about and neither does Shaye.
“A being who can assume the appearance of another,” he explains. “They’re extremely rare and equally dangerous.”
“No way,” I say, thinking his suggestion is BS. It’s kind of hard not to be skeptical. Shifters? Beings that can turn into anyone they choose? It sounds pretty farfetched. Maybe Keegan’s been hitting the whiskey a little too hard. Then again, I would have said the same thing about vamps two years ago. Still, I’ve never heard of a shifter and it sounds impossible.
“It’s the only rational explanation if you believe this Philips was being truthful with you,” he tells Shaye. He cups her chin gently and tilts her head so that she’s looking directly at him. “Do you believe he was being truthful?”
“Yes.” She says the word without hesitation. “And I’m never wrong.”
“Okay,” I say, crossing my arms. Shaye’s bought into Keegan’s theory hook, line and sinker, so it’s up to me to play devil’s advocate. Fortunately, I have lots of practice. “Say that shifters do exist. What would it even want with the cure? What’s the point? The theft is high risk and has no personal value.”
“Think about it,” Keegan tells us. “That cure is worth big money, both to The Dwyer Group and apparently to whoever hired this guy to steal it.”
“So you think someone hired a shifter to steal the cure?” Shaye asks. “That’s just sick.”
“But it fits,” I say as his theory takes shape. “While the Linkuri are tracking Philips, the real thief is probably laughing his ass off.”
“What do we do now?” Shaye asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply. I consider calling Aldo, but he’s already made it clear that he doesn’t want me involved. After all,
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