by Alex Hayes
Silken Scales
The Chameleon Effect - Book 1
Alex Hayes
Copyright © 2019 by Alex Hayes. All rights reserved.
http://www.alexhayesauthor.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotes in a review.
All characters in this publication are fictional and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 9781595730046
Shaking the Tree Press
Cover design: http://www.milagraphicartist.com
Cover photograph: Artjazz / depositphotos.
BOOKS BY ALEX HAYES
THE CHAMELEON EFFECT SERIES
Silken Scales (Book 1)
Perfect Pitch (Book 2)
Siren Song (Book 3)
The Golden Thread (Tie-in Novella)
Steel Strings (Tie-in Novel) Coming 12/30/19
Your free book is waiting
Get your free copy of The Golden Thread here:
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/mndblbqqjk
For the Beauty and the Beast in all of us.
It was never about the Beast. What matters is finding Beauty in the unexpected.
Idris thinks he only has one problem in life—escaping his dad’s mega plans for his future. A doom he can’t see a way to escape.
— Until Idris morphs into a monster.
Foster kid Cadi Rhoswen has finally found a loving home. Then a malicious high school jock turns her whole world upside down. The next thing she knows, she’s wandering the streets in the middle of winter. Alone.
— Until she discovers a beastly boy hiding in an abandoned nightclub called the Thorny Rose.
To change Idris back to his sexy human self, Cadi must reveal a secret she’s been holding close to her heart for as long as she can remember. A secret that will pit them against a deadly army and change their lives forever.
Contents
Prologue
1. Idris
2. Cadi
3. Idris
4. Cadi
5. Idris
6. Cadi
7. Idris
8. Cadi
9. Idris
10. Cadi
11. Idris
12. Cadi
13. Idris
14. Cadi
15. Idris
16. Cadi
17. Idris
18. Cadi
19. Idris
20. Cadi
21. Idris
22. Cadi
23. Idris
24. Cadi
25. Idris
26. Cadi
27. Idris
28. Cadi
29. Idris
30. Cadi
31. Idris
32. Cadi
33. Idris
34. Cadi
35. Idris
36. Cadi
37. Idris
38. Cadi
39. Idris
40. Cadi
41. Idris
42. Cadi
43. Idris
44. Cadi
45. Idris
46. Cadi
47. Idris
Perfect Pitch
1. Cadi
2. Dean
3. Cadi
Perfect Pitch
About the Author
Prologue
“The force field is back up!” Valdar shouted, eyes focused on the cavern’s center where an energy sphere of whirling orange gas, twenty meters in diameter, hung in suspension between two electromagnetic disks.
His fellow scientists, a bonded pair and his closest friends, stood at the main control console, their reptilian features tight with concentration.
“Why did we make the shutdown sequence so complicated?” the female, Casaladrea, muttered.
Valdar’s eyes narrowed. A minimum of two Livran technicians were required to power down the energy sphere and close the cosmic bridge.
Once the intergalactic portal was shut, it could never be reopened, and they would be cut off from their children forever.
That was why the shutdown sequence had been made so complicated.
An electric crackle pulled Valdar’s attention toward the cave entrance. The containment door blew open with a rumbling boom, and a troop of Evatenon warriors charged through. They must have blasted the external barriers before he’d got the force field back up.
“Find cover!” Valdar shouted, dodging behind another control panel.
“No time!” Henithar’s head bent as he worked the energy sphere’s controls beside Casaladrea.
Valdar knew his companions wouldn’t leave their post until the shutdown sequence had been initiated.
Shouts echoed off the cavern walls. The space was vast, but the enemy was closing in.
Valdar could do nothing to assist, so he shape-shifted, disguising himself as the sienna-colored rock on the cavern wall, desperately hoping his friends would finish their work before the Evatenon reached them.
Squiggles of electric-blue light crackled across the cavern, hitting Henithar and Casaladrea from behind. They collapsed to the floor, sending brown sand billowing around their bodies.
Valdar watched in horror as the four-armed, blue-skinned Evatenon gathered around his fallen comrades. They’d be stunned. Their enemy wouldn’t kill them. Not yet. Valdar wished desperately that they had.
He fought back a shudder, aware of what came next. So tempting to shape-shift back, try to do something, but he was unarmed, and there were too many to fight in hand to hand combat.
For the sake of his child, Henithar and Casaladrea’s, and the other children who had escaped, Valdar couldn’t reveal himself. If he remained hidden, he’d have a chance to complete the shutdown sequence his friends had begun.
“Commander Rill.” One of the Evatenon swung to face a warrior with a flatter forehead and wider cheekbones than the rest. “You will assimilate the Livran female. Captain Trin, take the male.”
The commander tilted her head. “Thank you, General.” She glanced at the warrior beside her, then back at the general. “But you will not take the male, sir?”
A low rumble shook from the general’s chest.
Valdar recognized the sound as a laugh.
“No, the gatekeeper is mine. I’ll secure the area. Take your team across the bridge. Locate the Livran escapees. Capture any you can and gather recon on the rest. Return within twelve Earth rotations.”
“Understood, General.” The commander turned to the warrior at her side. “Captain, help yourself.” Then she knelt beside Casaladrea and placed a webbed hand over the fallen Livran’s eyes.
A scream erupted from the Casaladrea’s mouth, bringing Valdar close to vomiting. He closed his eyes, unable to watch the agony distorting her features, wishing he could shut his ears to the sounds. Moments later, Henithar’s screams joined his wife’s as his life force was extracted through his eye sockets.
Weaker beings would have broken, caved in to the pain and expired in moments. But despite their peace-loving natures, the Livran were not weak. Unprepared. Untrained. Yes. But never weak.
Valdar almost transformed back to his Livran shape. Focusing on the safety of his son and his friends’ daughter was the only way he could contain himself. He had to preserve his own life for the sake of the children.
Finally, the screaming stopped. Valdar opened his eyes. Dried out husks were all that remained of his friends, while two Evatenon now held their forms. He swallowed as they strode down the stone passage toward the entrance of the cosmic bridge, followed by their troop. The warriors stepped
into the darkness and disappeared, leaving the general alone.
“Come out, Gatekeeper.” The Evatenon released a rumbling laugh as his muscular turquoise body strutted back and forth in front of the glowing energy sphere. “There’s no point in hiding. I’ll sniff you out, eventually.”
The creature inhaled through a series of nostrils lining the ridge down the center of his face. Four violet eyes with hourglass pupils scanned the shadows between the fang-like stalactites that hung from the cave ceiling.
“I am General Loguïti,” he announced. “And you, Gatekeeper, are about to help me make history.”
1
Idris
Earth, present day…
Tension tickles my neck as I swing my backpack over a shoulder and slam the locker shut. I don’t like being late. For anything. A habit my dad ingrained in me years ago.
Another steel door clangs as I head down senior hall. “C-sharp,” I murmur, thanks to my curse. Perfect pitch.
“Hey, Id, wait for me.” Marek catches up.
I throw my best friend a glance. “Gotta move or I’ll be late to Public Speaking.”
“You’re a freaking alien, bro. Who cares about being late to clubs?”
I resist an eye roll. “Like Hendricks wouldn’t fry my ass for being tardy. Besides, don’t you have Chess Club?”
“Dropped it.”
“What?” The. Hell. I stretch my stride down the corridor.
Marek has no trouble keeping up. His legs are longer. College basketball material, if he had the passion. Even has the Beasley look. Straight nose and pencil stache.
I can’t believe he quit that club though. “Thought you were Emperor o’ Chess.”
“Was. Got bored. Figured I’d check out Public Speaking.”
I rake a hand through my wiry curls. “You and public speaking are like a long top Afro on Pat Burke’s head. Just doesn’t sit right, man.”
Marek chuckles. “Figured I’d spend the first couple of meetings observing.”
Observing. Right. As in Brianna Jones. I throw him a sideways glance. “Why don’t you just ask Brianna out?”
“Because I’m not Idris Williams.” Marek says my name like it’s posted on a billboard. In lights. “Son of motivational speaker extraordinaire, Brandon Williams, and soon to be clone.”
Clone? In Dad’s dreams. Yeah, his dreams at the expense of mine, but I don’t go there.
Before I shove open the door to Mr. Hendricks’ class, I turn to Marek. “I’ll ask her out.”
“Like hell you will.”
I grin and burst into the room.
“Shit, bro,” he mutters as he follows, no doubt hunching his shoulders and lowering his eyes to the speckled linoleum floor, trying to appear shorter, less noticeable, a shadow in the wake of my dramatic entrance.
While I — pause for effect — capture everyone’s attention and smile.
Hendricks crosses through the ring of seats where the club members are assembled. He puts a hand up to high five me and I slap his palm. “Congratulations, Idris.” His salt-and-pepper eyebrows waggle. “Hopper High School’s first winner of the James Baldwin Go Tell It Public Speaking Competition.”
Marek straightens and smacks me on the back. Hard. But I don’t show the pain. “How come you didn’t tell me?” he murmurs.
I flash him an apologetic shrug.
The other students rise and applaud. Smiles ripple and grow wider.
Danny Torres whistles. A-flat. Can’t help the internal note-taking.
Wanda Briggs catcalls in F-sharp.
Discomfort spreads into my cheeks like the onset of flu. Why am I not lapping this up? An inward sigh. Because every competition I win feels like a loss, another fragment chipped away from what I want.
Even so, winning has its advantages. Brianna steps up and hugs me. Tight. She smells like gardenias. “We’re so proud of you, Idris.”
I order myself to let her go and pull away. She’s on Marek’s Most Wanted List, not mine. Though if it weren’t for Rebecca, she might be.
Yeah, Rebecca. Those glossy black eyes and the waterfall curls that tumble around her perfect face.
Brianna studies my features, eyes narrowing. “Are you okay, Idris? You look kind of green.”
Wanda belts out a laugh. “That’s called overexposure to the limelight.”
I grin. Wanda’s half right. “Gotta be the overhead fluorescents. I’m fine. Hey, Brianna…” I tilt my head in my friend’s direction. “You know Marek, right?” Kidding. Of course she knows him.
Brianna’s golden eyes turn to Marek and she laughs. Soft, like the rustle of silk. “Uh, yeah, Idris. We’re in band together. Remember?”
I glance at my best friend meaningfully, trying to give him an in, but he isn’t taking it.
“Hey,” Brianna adds. “Speaking of, my mom wants to talk to you. After clubs, in the music room. Can you meet her?” Her mom’s the band director.
I nod as something digs into my side. I envision a hot knife burning out my right kidney, but it’s only Marek’s elbow.
Wanda breaks the awkward silence by gripping my arm with her dark brown hand. She’s from Senegal and her skin is as close to true black as you can get. Beautiful.
Her full lips turn up into a sweet smile. “Come on, Idris. We want to know how it felt being up there in front of all those people. When they announced your name, did you freak out or what?”
“I freaked.” Nah, not really. Dad trained me too well. I accepted the trophy with perfect aplomb. Self-assured, totally composed, like I was doing the awards committee a favor by allowing them to present me with first place.
A sideways glance at Marek tells me he’s pissed. I flash him a Why-are-you-just-standing-there?-Don’t-make-me-ask-Brianna-out-for-you look and almost hear his responding growl.
Then he says, “Hey, Brianna, heard you practicing last week. Mozart, right? Awesome strings.”
A snicker almost escapes me. Brianna’s a talented cellist, but I know what Marek’s thinking. You can play my strings, anytime.
Wanda drags me over to the other students, leaving Marek to struggle with small talk. I lean a butt cheek on Hendricks’ desk, hands in pockets, and answer every question my classmates throw at me.
My eyes find Marek’s as he and Brianna wander over. Judging by the look he’s returning, he didn’t make any moves on her. I shake my head. Maybe Public Speaking Club is right where he needs to be.
Marek pushes me out of Mr. Hendricks’ class at the end of Club. “What is up with you? You’re always looking to stir things up. You open your mouth and you’re like Magneto. Brianna practically asked you out. I don’t need you stealing her just when she’s within touching distance.”
Stealing? He is totally wrong. I straighten my backpack as we head down the hall. “Asking me to talk to her mom is as far from asking a guy out as you can get.”
“Maybe she wants her mom’s blessing.”
I laugh. “Mrs. J knows me about as well as she knows Brianna. Bet I spend more time in music lab than Brianna spends at home.”
“What’re you saying?” Marek’s voice drops a full octave and grows hard. “That she’s out with other guys? I know she hasn’t got a new dude on the roster, and Jacob Flinn is so far in the outer reaches he’s a walking black hole.”
“I’m saying she’s a girl with a social life. She’s got girl friends. If you’re hoping to win her, you’ll have to play it smoother than complimenting her on her strings.”
Marek’s Nike Swoosh eyebrows bump into each other. “What I said was the truth. Brianna’s out of this world on the cello. Any fool can see that.”
“Hear it,” I correct.
“Mr. Semantics,” he mutters. “What’s happened to you, Id? You haven’t been the same since you started winning all those stupid speech competitions. Now you’re all Mr. Slick.”
Mr. Slick? “If you took the time to polish your one-liners, you’d have Brianna hanging on your every word.”
Marek shakes his head. “Nah, that’s you, bro. But you’re barely you anymore. You’re like an Almond M&M, all shiny color coating but hardly any chocolate inside.”
“I love Almond M&Ms.”
“Yeah, exactly what I’m saying. You’ve got all sophisticated. I liked the other guy better. The normal one.” His eyes narrow. “The one who’d settle into a bag of regular M&Ms and enjoy ‘em for the chocolate.”
I roll my eyes, not sure what else to say to the King of Metaphor. Brianna’s attention on me must have seriously freaked him out.
The hallway hits a tee. One way heads to senior hall, the other to the music room.
“You coming with me?” I ask.
“Nah. Too much work tonight and Ma’s threatened to drag me to the mall. Christmas shopping for the cousins.” A stab of laughter shoots out of Marek’s mouth. “She’s talking about buying my cousin a sweater. Haven’t decided whether to save his ass or leave him to be slam dunked into one of Tommy Hilfiger’s latest nautical stripes.”