Stolen by Cari Z

Author:Cari Z
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Their rental was located within sight of the pyramids, something Rhys wasn’t really able to appreciate as he dragged himself up the stairs to the second-floor apartment. He’d already rinsed himself off with a local’s garden hose, but he still smelled aromatic, to say the least, and his shoes were absolutely done for.

“Rhys!” Jenny almost threw herself at him as soon as he walked in the front door, but stopped herself at the last moment. “Oh, wow. Sewers, huh?”

“Sewers,” Rhys confirmed.

“Um, sorry for taking off with the getaway car, but…” Jenny shrugged and gestured toward Christine, who was sitting in a meditative pose on the couch a few yards away. “It was that or get involved in a bloodbath, and we don’t need that kind of notice right now.”

“It was the right call,” Rhys assured her. “Have you heard from Jer and Zahra?”

“They’re still in the museum,” Jenny replied, sitting back down at the table that was serving as her command center right now. “There’s surprisingly little traffic in the place right now, given everything that went down tonight. They’re holding steady, though, no problems to report. They should be able to walk out as free as birds tomorrow morning, or maybe earlier if the guards clear out sooner. The real Minister Abbasi has already been interviewed from his hospital bed, and he’s absolutely pissed—says he’s going to ask the president to call in the army to help him find the ‘face-stealing sons of dogs who dared to rob his museum.’”

“It’s probably the best we could hope for,” Rhys said with a shrug. “Is everything still good for our escape tomorrow afternoon?”

She nodded vigorously. “Mmhmm! We’re booked on the ferry to Cyprus tomorrow at three, and after that it’s a short hop on a puddle-jumper back to Istanbul.”

“Great.”

Rhys was briefly torn between finding something to eat and getting a shower. You’re still filthy, mate, don’t risk getting sick. Shower it was. He left his shoes and the holster—he’d long since disposed of the gun—by the door and headed for the tiny shower in the equally small single bathroom in this place, turning the water on as hot as it would go before stepping in. Barely lukewarm. Figures.

He scoured himself clean, focusing on the nooks and crannies and his hair, ugh, his poor hair. That was the thing about being a doppelganger, especially if he was changing his clothes as well as the shell that wore them—everything was body. The suit had been body, the tie was body, even the hair was really body, flesh manipulated to look and feel like other things. If changing shape were as easy as simply taking on another form, life would be so much simpler.

Doppelgangers were special, though. They didn’t morph into animals, or make themselves look like plants or walls or whatever someone might want to imitate. They impersonated someone down to their DNA, in some cases right down to their magical ability. It was that which made them special, so valuable to governments around the world that they’d been specifically bred for the task.

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