Siren Song (The Chameleon Effect Book 3)

by Alex Hayes

  I’m going to need every iota I have left because Azera’s in bad shape. Her lungs are jammed with soot, slowing her intake of oxygen. Before I’m halfway down the back steps, I start fixing the damage.

  Idris is right where I left him, motionless, the Evatenon weapon resting against his hip. The hum of his crystal tells me he’s okay, or will be.

  I focus on the inflammation in Azera’s brain where she was hit on the skull the hardest. A damaged eardrum heals in moments, and I move on to the soft tissue around her eyes.

  Terror races up my spine, making me gasp. My eyes fly toward the rear door. Where the hell is Rowan? She was right behind me.

  Fear slams into my chest, then shock, the echo of something so agonizing I almost drop Azera. Setting her down, I grab the weapon from Idris’s side and race through the double doors back into the building.

  Rowan’s screams fill the hallway.

  Exhaustion cannot slow the adrenaline surge that sends me flying up the stairs toward those chilling cries.

  An Evatenon monster pins Rowan to the wall like a delicate butterfly.

  He’s killing her, and I can’t shoot him without hitting her too. Casting the weapon aside, I dart toward them and grip the blue hand pressing into Rowan’s forehead to break its hold.

  She lets out a tormented gasp as I pull the hand away and her body goes slack, hanging from the Evatenon’s meaty hands like a rag doll.

  At first contact, my fingertips analyze the creature. In hand-to-hand combat, he’ll overwhelm me, unless…

  Idris taught me that touching another creature allows me to mimic its shape. If I can transform into an invisible bird man, why not a massive blue Evatenon monster?

  Skin tingles as my body inflates into a muscle-bound being sized to match the one gripping Rowan. My underwear tightens to the point of discomfort, but the influx of power and strength draws my focus to the adversary I now resemble. I pull back my arm and plant a blue fist into the forehead of Rowan’s captor.

  His head judders under the force. He releases Rowan, and she drops to the floor.

  My heart lurches, but I can’t help her until I’ve dealt with this asshole. Despite my matching blue form, we are far from fighting on equal terms. This guy’s as fresh as a freaking petunia.

  Hands clench and squeeze, fists fly, bodies ram into one wall, then another. But the more this blue form gets pushed around, the more stimulated it is to fight. It’s a rush, but I know my limits, recognize that in a few minutes my energy will fizzle out and I’ll collapse into a heap of spent muscle fiber.

  He hurls me into the wall, again. Anger and energy explode in my chest, but this is the final flare of a candle about to burn out.

  I need to get my hands on the weapon I jettisoned on arrival. Where the hell did it go?

  While I’m looking, the Evatenon hurls me to the ground and body slams me. The wind rushes from my lungs and I heave. Two hands clamp around my neck, while the other two trap my skull in a vice-like grip, squeezing until I feel my bulbous blue cranium distorting under the pressure.

  I’ve got to get him off me. If he wins, we’re all dead. I can’t let that happen, but I don’t have the strength to break free.

  Focus, Connell.

  I need to dive deep. With my abilities, I can heal bodies, but I can’t break them. I can jump-start a heart, but I can’t make it stop.

  While two of my hands wage war with the iron grip on my neck, I drop the other two to the chest of my attacker and jump-start him.

  The guy bucks at the energy burst. His shock gives me just enough slack to break his hold. A knee into the monster’s crotch, and I roll out from under him.

  I topple against a wall. Gotta get up. Gotta keep going. But my legs fold up, refusing to play.

  My adversary rises, eyes gleeful as he lumbers toward me. He reaches for my face, a self-satisfied smirk curling the lips of his double mouth. His look of triumph chills me to the marrow because I know I’m done for.

  “No!” That scream pierces the smoky air like a siren blast.

  Rowan!

  By sheer force of will, I stir my legs. They twist and push, but it isn’t enough to lift the weight of this stupendous amount of muscle mass.

  I shape shift, hoping my Livran form will provide enough strength to do something. Coolness flows over me like a slick coat of rain, revitalizing my body. I haul myself up, only to be thrown backward into the wall as a wave of heat blindsides me. My arms fly up to cover my face.

  The smell of burned flesh makes me gag as my dry throat tries to swallow. I’m sure my eyeballs have been fried, but their lids peel back and I take in the distorted scene before me.

  The previously smirking Evatenon convulses on the dusty floor, his blue skin charred black across his front side. Smoke rises from toasted flesh, and his skin cracks and oozes.

  Before I can contemplate moving, a burst of squiggly blue light fills the corridor. It strikes the twitching alien, surrounds him with a halo, then his body turns gray and falls into a pile of ash.

  I shift aching eyes to search for the source of that blast.

  Idris stands in Livran form at the top of the stairs, cradling the silver weapon I dropped, cold satisfaction sculpting his features.

  I seek out Rowan. She lies on her back, arms cast outward and palms aglow.

  Twisting to my knees, I half-crawl, half-drag myself to her side. My fingers find her shoulder, touch her face, and I push my last few kilojoules of strength into healing the burst blood vessels in her brain.

  From the periphery, I hear a siren. A sad and dissonant song. A call to action, but I have no strength to move. My mind drifts in and out as I tuck my cheek into an elbow and let the song drift into a dream.

  39

  Rowan

  Two hearts beat in synchrony. Fingers cup my cheek. Soft breath tickles the sensitive skin across my neck. And nothing hurts.

  A smoky scent cuts through the cool air. Grit rolls beneath my fingertips. Concrete chills one side of me, while body heat warms the other.

  I succumb to the hypnotic weight of contentment, until a rapid shake breaks my euphoric trance.

  My eyelids flutter and open. Con lies tucked beside me. He’s in lizard form and mostly naked, an arm hooked around my waist.

  Struggling onto an elbow, I squint at Idris. He crouches with a hand resting on my shoulder. “Fire trucks are coming. We’ve gotta get you outta here.” He eases me from Con’s grasp.

  “We can’t leave him,” I croak.

  “The faster I get you out, the sooner I’ll be back for him.”

  I have no strength left to argue. Idris scoops me into his arms and jogs down the last flight of stairs, then swoops me out of the rear doors into the night.

  Once I’m parked against a chain-link fence, he races back inside. I stare after him anxiously. I want to help, but I can barely move.

  Sirens whine and red lights flash along the street on the other side of the derelict apartment building.

  As I suck in a mouthful of clean air, a shadow drifts in a slow arc before me, back and forth, like a caged panther.

  Azera.

  I glance down at my arms. I’m still in Livran form.

  “Are you okay?” Her croak is worse than mine.

  Through the low light, I make out her features, almost restored. Because of Con.

  My gaze darts back to the double doors. Hurry, Idris.

  Azera wraps a hand around my bicep and shakes me.

  I drop my head against the fence. “I’m fine.”

  She licks her lips. “You’re not human.”

  I cough out a laugh. “No more than Con is.”

  Her eyes narrow, head nodding slowly.

  “I should change form.” I don’t need any one else spotting me like this.

  Rising from her crouch, Azera backs away.

  A sensation like rolling liquid slides over me as my skin turns a glossy metallic gray and I morph back to human.

  Azera’s eyes widen. “I
’ve only seen Connell do that.” A frown furrows her forehead into a deep vee. “What are you?”

  What? I almost scoff at her objectification but can’t bring myself to be outraged.

  Keep it simple, Rowan. “I’m from another planet.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

  With the aid of the chain-link, I pull myself upright. “Seriously.”

  The rear door bursts open, and Idris and Con tumble out.

  “Let’s go,” Idris calls, shape shifting to human. We shuffle down the alleyway into the street.

  Con’s human already. He stops to pull on his jeans and shoes, his body showing little sign of his battle with the Evatenon. Even so, his legs move like he’s dragging them through water.

  Azera offers a ball of red fabric to Con as we stumble along. “I found it by the back door. Your favorite Clash shirt. I’m amazed you left it behind.”

  A smile connects them as he takes the filthy T-shirt and drags it over his head.

  We reach his Taurus first.

  He produces keys from his jeans pocket. “I doubt I can drive right now.” His eyes narrow in Azera’s direction. “You shouldn’t either. I’m not done healing you.”

  While Azera complains, I snag the keys from Con’s open palm.

  His gaze meets mine. “You could use some more—”

  “I’m fine. I’ll drive. Get in the car.” Yeah, and that’s an order.

  Con and Azera flop into the back of the vehicle, their sighs audible as they collapse against the cushioning.

  I slide into the driver’s seat and spot a half full bottle of orange juice lying on the passenger side. I pass it through the gap.

  Con grabs the container. “You’re a life saver.” The sound of gulping follows, then a rustle of plastic.

  “Is this the takeout you got us?” Azera asks.

  God, they’re so pathetically domestic.

  I bite down on my lip, fighting the overwhelming sense of not belonging.

  “Hey, Rowan? You okay?” Con’s question pops the self-pity bubble ballooning in my chest.

  How I wish I could cut the emotional connection between us. Shut him out. Because I don’t want him to know how much it hurts to see him with someone else.

  “Fine.” My response snaps, cold and hard, as I start the engine.

  “You want some takeout?” he offers.

  I hold back my sigh. “No, thanks.”

  Idris knocks on the window.

  I open up and look at him, hoping my anguish isn’t obvious.

  “You heading to his place?” His eyes shoot toward the backseat.

  “Yeah. Do you mind following? I’ll need a ride home.”

  There’s comfort in our conversation, our connection. Playing third wheel to Idris and Cadi has never been a problem, but third wheel to Con? The thought crushes my insides.

  “Sure, lead the way,” Idris replies.

  Ten minutes into the journey, I can’t stop the tears streaming down my face. I thank the darkness, the gusty thrum of the engine and the droning street noise for shielding me.

  The rustle of food containers has been replaced by the slow deep breaths of my sleeping passengers.

  We’re alive. We won. I should be relieved, jubilant, but those feelings won’t come. So I let the tears fall, reassured that, as long as Con sleeps, he won’t detect my hurting.

  I bury my grief as I pull into a parking space one block from Con’s apartment.

  Each time we meet, our bond grows stronger. If I’m to survive without him, I need to maintain a distance.

  Azera’s eyes flicker as the engine dies. Con’s head rests on her thigh. He looks dead to the world, and I doubt he’ll be going anywhere soon.

  I lean over the seatback and drop the keys into Azera’s upturned hand.

  Idris steps up beside me. One glance at the sleepers, and he heads back to his car, returning with a blanket.

  As I tuck the cover around them, Azera pulls in a breath and stares at me.

  I meet her gaze. “Take care of him.” Then I turn away before my face betrays me.

  “Hey,” she calls.

  I spare a backward glance. “Yeah.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “Sure,” I answer like an automaton.

  “Are you good?” Idris asks as I slip into the car beside him.

  I sink into leather and secure my seat belt. “As good as I’ll ever be.”

  A herd of antelope wakes me. Not that I know what a herd of antelope sounds like, but if I were to imagine one…

  For once, the noise doesn’t startle me, and the resurgent headache, following my near-miss assimilation, is gone. Two more fix-it buttons to pin to Con’s lapel.

  If I ever see him again.

  After last night, I couldn’t blame him for retreating back to the life he had before I found him.

  “Hey, Rowan. How’re you doing?” Idris skates across the tiles in stockinged feet and slides to a stop at the back of the couch.

  I squint up at him, unwilling to move. It’s still morning, and I’m hours short on a good night’s sleep. “Alive and pretty well.” My voice is scratchy.

  “That’s great.” His head bobs about like a hyperactive puppy’s. “Max called. Maggie DeBoise invited me to a cocktail party tonight. Max said she hasn’t given up on ‘Won’t You Come Home to Me?’ She wants me to sing the song at this event. The place has a grand piano and a nice setup for live entertaining. Several of the backers for her movie will be there. This could be my chance to show them what they’d be missing if they don’t sign me to sing.”

  “Idris, that’s wonderful.” I sit up and groan over my sore muscles.

  “You’ll come with me, right?” His eyebrows wiggle. “For moral support.”

  I pucker my lips. “As long as you don’t want me to sing.”

  He flinches like he’s replaying my test performance in his head. “Nah, I can sing without backup. No worries.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried.” I give him a not-so-subtle wink. “You’re gonna blow their socks off.”

  Idris grins. “Here’s hoping.” He drags a hand through his blond-tipped curls. “Let’s go shopping. I need something cool, yet casual. And maybe you could pick up an outfit with a bit more glitter?”

  Sliding my legs off the couch, I toss him a twisted smile. “What are you saying? That I’m not sparkly enough?”

  He shakes his head, unable to keep that grin from resurfacing. “I’m so wired right now, I’ve got enough sparkle for both of us.”

  40

  Connell

  I sweep a palm over my stubbly jaw as I wander into the kitchen, my loose sweatpant legs dragging across the linoleum.

  Azera sits in her usual spot at the island, staring over her laptop screen and out the kitchen window.

  “Hey,” I mumble on the way to the fridge, and notice my voice has the crackly edge of a seasoned smoker. No OJ, so I settle for a can of sparkling water with natural lemon flavor, whatever that means.

  I clunk the can on the counter and haul my ass into a chair. Not a pretty sight, I’m sure.

  If Rowan could see me now…

  I’m glad to say she can’t. It’ll take a ten-minute shower, minimum, and some serious intimacy with a razor before I’m anywhere near respectable enough to be seen in public, let alone by her.

  Having woken in the Taurus well after midnight, I finished healing Azera’s wounds, then we staggered to the apartment and crashed.

  “There’s coffee in the pot.” Her head tips in the general direction of the coffee maker. Like me, her usual energy is lacking.

  I can’t do coffee first thing, but—I glance at the clock on the oven—four in the afternoon isn’t exactly first thing.

  She closes her laptop and studies me. “I rescued the rest of last night’s takeout. It’s in the fridge.”

  “Huh. Thought we’d inhaled it all.” The potstickers were definitely gone. And the kimchi.

  “There’s fried
rice,” she says, “and Hyun must have given you an extra order of chicken lo mein because I found a full container.”

  I slide off my chair to fetch the lo mein. “Want the rice?” I call over my shoulder while reaching between an assortment of berries, Azera’s breakfast superfoods.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  I grab a fork and dig into the cold noodles. There isn’t much better than this after a hard night of healing.

  Azera sips from her cup, watching me eat. “So,” she says, eventually, “what happened to the real Ryker?”

  Just hearing that name wads my face like wet tissue. “You didn’t really like that guy, did you?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Not the way you’re thinking, but he was a human being.”

  Whoever that alien Ryker was, there wasn’t much human left. “I’m guessing he’s dead.”

  Azera gnaws on her lower lip, schooling her emotions. “He must’ve had a family.”

  Yeah, there is that. Same with Danvers and whoever the third guy was. They didn’t deserve to be murdered.

  She lifts her chin. “I saw that girl, Rowan, while she was all scales and green.” Azera’s eyes turn to pinpoints as they gaze at me. “She said she’s from another planet.”

  Easier to stuff a forkful of food in my mouth than respond to her, I make it a good one.

  She stares into her cup and swirls it. “Don’t suppose you happen to come from another planet too.”

  I swallow and look at her. “From the same planet, Az. From the same race. Green scales. That’s our normal getup. The bird man is something else, some creature I must’ve run into as a kid. I have this memory…” I shake my head. “Like I met one once, and that’s how I learned his shape.”

  “Would you change into your natural form?” She’s never been one to tiptoe around anything.

  I huff. “You seriously want me to?”

  A ligament in her jaw becomes visible as she nods.

  After a long eye roll, I let out a sigh and transform.

  The pulse in her neck jumps. Nevertheless, she leans closer to inspect me in all my scaliness, until I fidget in my seat.