Chameleon (2 page)

“Y
ou used the money for the light bill,” I cried. “Remember. That was yesterday.”

“Lies
!” Her gray eyes darkened to black.

I pictured the boy’s huge father standing before me—broa
d shoulders, long legs, and big hands. The right side of my brain throbbed as I raced to evaluate the DNA.

My mom screamed something, and then whacked my face with the back of her hand.
Blood coated my tongue. I imagined myself transforming into the man.

My skin bubbled. Mom was too drunk to notice. A tightening sensation formed in my chest and sucked me inside of myself like a vacuum. My magic burned each pore and seared my hair follicles. Green sparks flickered. The herbal sent of rosemary floated from each
spark. My scales slid under my skin as my flesh ripped, stitched itself back together, and expanded over growing bones and ballooning muscles. I shifted into the man’s image, my clothes tearing apart with the change. Fabric pieces dropped to the floor.

Mom backed away in fear, as usual,
and covered her mouth with her hand. “You’re a curse sent down from the gods!”

I edged away before she could gain control of herself and hit me
some more. Although I mirrored the man’s reflection, I didn’t obtain his strength and if I hurt myself, even something as simple as banging my knee, then my original image would return. But, Mom never knew either of those facts.

“You ate his soul, didn’t you?”
She backed up and bumped into the table behind her.

I wobbled down the ha
llway toward the front door and tried to adjust to the new legs and large feet. Swaying, I lurched forward and bumped my knee. The man’s image wavered around me, but remained. The door was locked. I scrambled to open it. Wind rushed through, when the door opened. Ice-cold rain sprayed my face.

“Wait a minute! Get back here!” she yelled.

I slipped out, but didn’t fall. My breathing increased to an erratic pace as I sped up and stomped through puddles outside. Chilly mud squished through my toes. I bumped into an old woman, knocking her umbrella out of her hand. She shrieked.

“Sorry.
” I hid my mimic’s penis with my huge hands. It felt weird to touch it.

“Cameo!” Mom cried
from the doorway. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Racing away,
I didn’t glance back. Her pleading and sad face would turn me around, like all of the other times. No. I continued forward, unsure of where I’d be sleeping that night as the sky darkened around me.

Tires screeched. I opened my eyes, falling back into this new reality—Wiz in front of me and my mom gone.

She’s really dead, now. Why don’t I feel relieved?

My fingers trembled against the swing’s rusty chain. I shook away
my bad memories and forced myself to focus on the present. The candy dissolved in my mouth. Only emptiness remained.

I gazed at Wiz. His face displayed a neutral mask, eyes distant and lips formed in a straight line. His hand rested in his jean pockets
. The wind blew again. His chained belt clanked against itself. The patched trench whipped a little around him.

“Cameo
, you don’t have to do this job.”

“Stop
stressing over me.”

He hissed, but said nothing else.

“So, what color is the debutante’s dress?” I ignored the scowl on his face. “If it’s pink, I want an extra hundred.”

“It’s green.” He glanced at my cleavage. “Did you have to make your copy’s breasts so big?”

Here we go again.

“Leave me alone. I like them this
way.” I rose from the swing, headed off to where his place was located, and buried my hands into my pocket.
No more candy.

“Cameo,” he called out. I face
d him. He still stood by the swing.

“Take my keys.” He threw them my way.

I barely caught them. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No
, I’m going to grab some stuff out of this place.” He gestured toward my mom’s apartment. “Some people in the crowd said the dead woman had no relatives. I figure there has to be something of value, right?”

Unease sat in the pit of my stomach. I gritted my teeth and focused on the ground
. My right foot kicked some dirt up. “Yeah, probably.”

“I’m going to box the stuff up and take it to my place
, later.” He took a few steps my way.

“
You’re wasting your time.” I dug a tiny hole with the tip of my boot. “I doubt she’ll have anything good. It’s probably just photos, knick knacks, and old lady crap.”

His hand went to mine
and startled me. His thumb rubbed against my palm, sending warmth up my arm. “Memories could be precious to the right buyer.”

I’d left everything behind when I ran away: photos, hundreds of comics, my porcelain unicorn collection, and
…pictures of Mom.

It would be nice to have one
photo. Life wasn’t always bad with her.

A hard lump
lodged in my throat. My eyes watered. Wiz’s breathing increased as he took another step forward. An inch separated us. His grip tightened around my hand. I directed my attention to the ground, not wanting him to see me cry. He never showed weakness. I wouldn’t either.

“I’m not good with knowing the value of things.” Wiz released my hand and backed up. “You think you could take your time and go through the boxes for me?”

He must know it’s my mom.
The grass leaned in the direction of the wind. I tapped my foot a few times.
Could I rummage through my past and still be sane?
I almost laughed.
After all the torture—waking me up to slaps, keeping me in a cage as a toddler, scraping my scales away with a knife—was I even sane now?

“Cameo?”

“I’ll price everything for you,” I said.

“Then I’ll drop the boxes at your room. Take your time with it.”

Tears threatened to spill over my eyelids. “Okay.”

“I’ll meet you at my place in an hour. Then we’ll go pick up the spoiled debutant.”

“Thank you, Wiz.” I glanced up, but he was gone.

C
hapter 2

There was a dead body hiding somewhere in the limo. The aroma of rotting flesh saturated the space and floated from the leather seats. I scrunched my nose up.

Goddess help
me. This is horrific.

The vehicle drowned in the stench, but no one said
a word. My date sat on my right and pressed his face against the tinted window. The couple across from me consisted of our client, Stacy, and her date Pike. They lounged, cuddled up in some awkward position that allowed them to kiss, whisper, and hold both hands all at the same time.

Wiz hopped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
He had taken away the vehicle’s interior divider when we bought the limo so I could see everything he was doing. A big gap lay in the middle of Wiz and us, so he could reach over and attack someone in the back with ease. It was a pretty old model and had cost us three months worth of job money, but we soon discovered that owning the limo saved us time and energy, plus kept Wiz with me during the whole task.

Did he smell what I did?

It didn’t seem like it. He just cast a spell for the limo to start, whispering the words under his breath. Yellow and blue sparks burst from the steering wheel. The peppermint fragrance of fairy magic thickened the air. I scanned the area again and searched the space for any signs of death.

Maybe someone hid the corpse with magic? But then why would anyone do that?

My mom’s dangling feet flashed in my head.

I’m just on edge.

The car turned on. The engine hummed.

“Buckle up,” Wiz said
. I knew he was only talking to me. Wiz hated two things: music that wasn’t jazz and rich people. He wouldn’t care if our clients were injured in an accident.

“I said buckle up,” Wiz barked louder than necessary.

We’re following safety laws, now? He’s more on edge than me.

The others scrambled to put on their seat belts. An exasperated breath escaped my lips as I found my own belt and fastened it.
He’s so freaking bossy when he’s nervous.

“Could you turn on some
hip hop music?” Stacy asked.

I struggled
not to laugh.

“I don’t DJ.” Wiz drew out two tiny daggers, one s
ilver and the other copper. Stacy spotted the daggers and closed her mouth.
That’s just great customer service, Wiz.
Time and time again, I argued that scaring the crap out of our clients didn’t help business. Wiz countered, since I was the only person who could accurately replicate another without any mishaps, we didn’t need to be nice.

Our limo eased onto Main Street
to take us to the debutante ball.

When Wiz and I
arrived to pick the group up, we went inside Stacy’s house. Wiz explained the rules to her. I didn’t meet Faye, the actual person I was supposed to replicate. Stacy explained that her sister didn’t want to meet us and that she was shy. At first, the excuse caught me off guard, but once Stacy handed us a large envelope of money I erased my doubtful thoughts. Stacy and Faye’s parents were supposed to be waiting for us at the ball. Stacy was going to tell them that I, or really Faye, lost my voice. After Wiz discussed the job some more, we all walked out of the house. Two guys were standing by the limo with the door open. They’d introduce themselves as mine and Stacy’s date.

And now the seats reek of death.
I sighed, not really sure how I should handle it.

It stank of a set-up. Rich teenagers had been hiring us for fake jobs recently and leaving us with over
-dosed corpses. They would call Wiz and make up some job. We would arrive to the given spot with me as the mimic. And then the habbies would show up, right as we discovered the dead person. People figured Wiz’s copy spell would disappear eventually and that he was just some two-bit hustler that no one cared about. What they didn’t understand was that we always had an escape plan and later Wiz ended up visiting the person who’d set him up. He joked that it gave him great boxing practice.

The only problem this time was that we were a bit outnumbered in the limo, when it came to power.
Stacy and the guys had silver crescent moons embedded in their foreheads that identified them as pureblooded shapeshifters. Every shapeshifter wore a crescent moon brand, could transform into one specific animal, and possessed a decent amount of strength.

I wore an X because I was
a mixbreed. Usually, when different magical species breed together, the offspring lost power. I was lucky enough to be a mixbreed who had power and was able to change my form into other people’s images. Other mixbreeds were as weak as humans. They got bullied by purebloods and called harsh words like combo trash, dirty blood, and cage punks. Purebloods like these in the car probably considered Wiz and I those awful names and figured that dumping a dead body on us would be no problem in the long run.

I’m not going to say anything.
I’ll just follow Wiz’s lead. I’m sure he smells the dead body too.

I
rested my hands in my lap and twisted the forest green gown with my fingers. Sequins scratched at my skin. My job was only to mimic Faye, not to draw attention to anything. If Wiz sensed something peculiar, he would step in within seconds.

Just be the mimic and forget that it stinks in here!

I smiled at my date, Tom. Green tortoise shell glasses dominated his face and averted attention from his acne-coated cheeks. I leaned in closer to him. The pimples boasted of scabs and tiny bubbles of puss as if he’d been picking at them all morning.
Interesting.
Scarred tissue hardened around the red, enflamed skin. If Tom didn’t stop picking at the bumps, his zit-crowded cheeks would be permanent. Inclining further toward him, I analyzed the curving swoop of his jawbone and how his nose subtly hooked at the tip.

“Why is this copy spell getting so
close to me?” Tom shrieked and jerked back. “And why is it staring at me like that?”

Wiz loudly cleared his throat which was his
signal for me to end my weird habit. I shrugged and sat back in my chair.
I’ll just look at those blemishes later.
I grinned.
It’s going to be awesome replicating that acne damage.

“Relax. The spell won’t hurt you,” Wiz mumbled.

“What type of magic is this anyway: blood, fairy, elemental, or. . .demon?”

Wiz clucked with his tongue and
turned the steering wheel.

“It looks just like Faye,” Tom declared. Stacy stirred in her seat and rested her head on her date’s shoulder. Tom shook his head with wide open eyes and a gaping mouth. “It has every detail of Faye.”

The
it
and the
spell
everyone was referring to, was me. Wiz always told clients that he invented a complex impersonation spell. To our customers, I was a magical illusion, nothing more—not a real life person. It was all for my protection so no one would kidnap and try to use me for their own desires and greed. Wiz had even gone so far as to register a patent for the impersonation spell. Many companies, in and outside of the caged city, offered thousands to buy it. Others bullied and threatened him, which was why his coat grew beyond his knees with patches of his defeated’s skin.

“It’s just magic,” Stacy whispered.

“I’ve never seen any enchantment or spell work this well. It even caught the tiny heart-shaped splotch above Faye’s eye.” Tom touched my forehead with his fingertips. I did my best not to flinch and assumed a spell wouldn’t react at all.

“The illusion is warm too, like it’s alive.” Tom’s fingertips traced a line from the fake crescent moon brand on my forehead to the tip of my nose.

“Don’t touch her!” Wiz snarled from the driver’s seat. Everyone turned to him. Wiz’s emerald eye brightened. The limo glowed with green light. I figured Wiz’s hand was already on the handle of his favorite dagger, Vanity.

“The oils from your skin could disarm the magic.” Wiz’s voice boomed through the vehicle. “
Just keep your hands off her!”

Relax
. He’s not going to hurt me.
Wiz’s face centered on mine. My lips curled up into a huge smile as I hoped to calm him down.

“I’m sorry.” Tom raised his hand
s in the air. “I was just. . .admiring your work.”

“Admire it from a distance.” Wiz turned around as the limo eased along Oshun Boulevard.

“And stop staring at the illusion,” Stacy said with disgust. “It’s creepy enough we’re doing this. I don’t need you grossing me out by touching and drooling on it.”

She leaned into her date’s body and cringed when I glanced her way. Like my mimic, her curly blonde hair hung down to her waist. I’d decided to reuse this image’s hair texture. The strands produced that silky quality one achieved
only from applying designer products and sitting around brushing their hair all day.

Tom fingered one of my curls, gently pull
ed it toward him, and then let it go. The curl bounced back to my chin. The limo screeched to a stop. I gave Tom a weak smile.
Please stop.
Within seconds, Wiz spun around and charged to the back in a blur, the sharp tip of Vanity an inch from Tom’s chin. The blade’s runes blazed fiery orange. Heat radiated off it. Tom’s glasses fell to the tip of his nose. A threatening sneer left Wiz’s lips. I shivered.

“Touch her again and I cancel the job by cutting your head off.”
Wiz barred his silver fangs.

I frowned at Wiz, but he ignored my reaction.

This job will be over before it begins.
We’ll have to talk some more about him being an overprotective turd.

“Okay.” Tom’s pale face brightened to red
and shaded all of his bumps. “I swear man. I won’t touch her anymore. Pike, tell him I won’t.”

“We’re cool, Wiz,” Stacy’s date Pi
ke said.

“
God, Tom! You’re such a freak.” Stacy tossed curls over her shoulder.

“But it’s like Faye is here,” Tom countered. “How can you not—”

“Chill, man.” Pike held his hand in front of him, leaned toward Tom, and whispered, “This cage punk, Wiz, is no joke. Don’t touch the spell. It’s just magic, not Faye.”

“Okay.” Tom adjusted the glasses on his face. He scooted away from me until his body slanted near the door. Wiz returned to driving.

I looked at Pike. Unlike Tom who wore a tuxedo, Pike had some sort of fake street formal wear on.
As if street kids dressed in evening wear.
I giggled into my hand. Everyone’s faces snapped my way, including Wiz who scowled in the rearview mirror.

“The spell must be reacting to when you touched it.” Wiz glared at Tom. “I should slice that finger off.”

Stacy gasped.

“It’s almost over
, sweetie.” Pike kissed Stacy on her cheek.

Yep. This is a set-up.

Blond spikes jutted from Pike’s scalp. I wondered what hair gel he’d used. The spikes appeared clean and sculptured. He wore tuxedo pants with ten pockets sewn on the legs. From an initial view, they were similar to street kids’ trousers. We strutted around with dozens of pockets packed with our belongings, since we couldn’t afford to place spacing charms in our pants. With spacing charms the pocket would expand so much that an individual could fit ten times the amount a normal one held. Even better, the spacing charm didn’t reveal how much was inside. The pocket remained flat and appeared empty. But charms cost too much, especially for street kids who needed every penny to survive.

I studied Pike’s tuxedo pockets. They looked flat, ironed, and even. Either he had nothing in them or he’d spent the money to cast a spacing charm. I figured the latter.

Why is he pretending to be something he isn’t?

Pi
ke slipped his fingers into his jacket. His hand remained there. Beads of sweat sprung up around Pike’s crescent moon brand. I directed my attention back to the rearview mirror. Wiz looked at me and nodded when I gestured to Pike.

Our limo halted at a stoplight. In a blur, Pi
ke yanked out a hypodermic needle and tried to stick Wiz in the neck. Wiz blocked him. I screamed and jumped out of my seat. Pike and Wiz fought. Both grunted as they punched and grabbed. The limo seat between them never allowed the other to get in a good aim. I charged toward Pike.

“
What the goddess?” Stacy shrieked and kicked me in the stomach. The heel stabbed my abdomen. An electric pang shot up my gut.
Oh no.
My mimic’s image evaporated. Due to the injury, my real form appeared. Clear scales pushed out of my pale skin. The blonde hair turned into bushy white strands that fell past my shoulders. My eyes shifted to green with slit pupils.

Chaos ensued.

“Get away from me, monster!” Stacy screamed and hit me. Her closed fist pounded against me with no restraint. I wagged my arms and tried my best to get away, but Tom pushed me back and screamed even louder than Stacy had.

The limo began to drive forward.
Wiz or Pike must have accidentally hit the gas as they fought. Tom opened the limo door and jumped out. Stacy punched me in my face. I collapsed to the floor and grasped at my stomach. The sounds of horns beeped around us.