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perv and start dragging the river. If your mom were still around, would you do that to her?”
    He looked down, thoughtful. “Touché. So you’re going to tell your mother and the cops that you changed into a tiger and someone stuck you in a cage?”
    I realized he was right, about this at least. If I told them the truth, my parents would think I was crazy. “I could, you know, shift for them. Show them that I’m sane.”
    “And how would you do that?” He raised his eyebrows and sucked on his soda straw.
    “I’d just, you know . . .” I made a swiping motion with my hand, as if it were a claw.
    “And if you could shift at will into a tiger, how would you go about shifting back?” He crumpled up the foil from his hot dog, aimed out the car window, and threw it right into the garbage can outside.
    I looked at him, exasperated. “I changed back just fine before.”
    “You were unconscious the first time,” he said. “And the second time you had no idea how you got those claws or why they went away.”
    “You think I’d get stuck?” I said.
    He shrugged, rattling his bag of chips to get the last bits at the bottom. “It happens all the time to shifters when they’re young. That’s why their families keep close tabs on them or send them to experts. I’ve never heard of a shifter like you, growing up without knowing their heritage, having no one to teach them the basics.”
    “I’m an orphan,” I said, thinking of the passage in Lazar’s notes. “My biological parents are dead,” I said. “My mom adopted me when I was eighteen months old from an orphanage in Russia.”
    “That starts to explain it,” he said. “I was wondering what you were doing living in Burbank.”
    “Yeah, you said that thing about me speaking good English. . .”
    “Because tiger-shifters live only two places on earth—northern India and eastern Siberia. I’ve never met one until you. My mom traveled all over the world and met every other kind of shifter, but even she never met a tiger. They went to ground decades ago. Some people think they’re myths. But Mom said that’s probably what they want us to think.”
    I took the keys, started the car, and drove us a few feet to the gas pump. As he stood at the gas tank, I tried to lean out the window. The brace pinched my thigh. I had to open the car door to get comfortable. Caleb didn’t notice, but stood staring at the ground, frowning.
    “So this place you’re going—you’ll be safe there, right?” I asked.
    He nodded, but didn’t look completely certain. “My mom told me to go there in case of emergency. No money, on the run from armed Tribunal members . . . I guess this qualifies.”
    “Won’t the Tribunal tell the police someone stole this car?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “The Tribunal is obsessed with secrecy. They never rely on what they call ‘heretic’ agencies to do their work for them. If they called the car in as stolen, they’d have to make a report, give a name, an address, make up a story. And then there would be a record of their existence somewhere. Questions might be asked. No. They’ll deal with us in their own way.”
    “Once we get to my place, I can sneak you some money to pay for more gas,” I said. “Make sure you get where you need to go.”
    He raised his dark brows at me. “I can always find money. Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Worry about yourself.”
    The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I couldn’t tell if it was the look on his face or the implication of his words that made me shiver. I forced myself to harrumph derisively. “Find money? You mean steal it. Better if you take my cash,” I said.
    He shrugged. “Let’s see how it goes. You might change your mind about staying home.”
    “Stubborn,” I said.
    He replaced the pump and closed up the gas tank. “Move over,” he said. “I’ll drive the rest of the way. You can take a cat nap.”
    I groaned as he shot me a mischievous smile. “Thanks. I