Perfect Pitch (The Chameleon Effect Book 2)

by Alex Hayes

  I do. The drink tastes tart and sweet. “Wow! This is great.”

  “You can compliment your brother. He did the messy work. In the meantime, I’d better deliver these.”

  “Hold it,” I say. “Let them come to you.” Slipping two fingers between my teeth, I whistle.

  Ty looks up and I raise my glass. He nods and comes running.

  After gulping down his drink in five seconds flat, he turns. “Hey, Idris. Will you help me tune your guitar? I did it this morning, but not so well.”

  Idris grabs some lemonade. “Sure. Let’s go.” They head inside.

  Shri sets down the tray and takes the last glass. She sips and puckers.

  Before I can ask her about the falling pan incident, Cadi inches the sliding door open with an elbow, arms cradling a sheet pan of burger patties. She smiles as she passes us, hurries across the porch and down the stone path edging the pool to where Tom Jacobsen is tending the barbecue.

  “I gave her a poke.” Shri leans a hip on the railing, facing me.

  “Meaning?”

  She watches Cadi talking to Tom. “I told her she should talk to you.”

  I cross my arms and wince as pain needles me. “She’s almost as annoying as my mom.”

  Shri’s eyes darken beneath her furrowed brow. “Still getting threatening messages?”

  “I got a be-home-tonight-or-else text from her about an hour ago.”

  “What do you think that means?”

  I shrug. “Cops, maybe. What else is she going to do? She doesn’t know where we are. I didn’t even tell her we were headed to New York, so we could be anywhere.”

  “The police could track your phone,” she says. “Maybe you should turn it off.”

  I face the backyard. “Maybe I should just leave it and deal with the cops when they get here.”

  Shri tugs in a sharp breath. “You could get arrested. Put in jail.”

  “My dad’s one step from jail, himself, for what he did to Ty, and Mom can’t go more than eight hours without a bottle of booze. I doubt they’ll involve the police.”

  “I still think you should turn off your phone.”

  “Except that I told Mom I’d take Ty home once she kicks Dad out. How am I going to know when she’s done that without my phone on?”

  Despite my promise, I’m not so sure going back will solve anything, not since reading Brandon’s book. But I can’t give up hope. Not yet.

  “When she’s kicked him out?” Shri shakes her head. “How can you be sure she’ll ever get around to doing that?”

  I stare into her near-black eyes, wishing I could lose myself in their protective darkness.

  Finally, I shrug. “Because she has to.”

  29

  Cadi

  “God, that feels so much better,” I murmur, leaning into Idris on a lounge chair as his fingers work ultrasound waves deep into the muscle tissue of my shoulders.

  Scratching at the back door makes me stiffen.

  “Relax,” Idris whispers into my neck. My body tingles, but not in the demanding way it had a few days ago.

  I snuggle back against him. “I think the mating season thing is wearing off.”

  He slides his arms around my waist. “Bummer.”

  I laugh.

  Pepper dashes across the back porch, followed by a quiet harrumph.

  “Watch the PDA, you two.”

  I glance up at Shri, who exits the back door with Dean in tow. “It wasn’t public until you two showed up.”

  Idris goes back to massaging my shoulders, while Shri and Dean stand in awkward silence, waiting for Pepper to come back from his rush around the backyard to mark all available bushes and trees.

  “Didn’t you say something about massaging Dean’s back?” I call out to Shri.

  Dean stiffens and his hand moves to press his tailbone.

  “Um. When did I say what?” Shri’s gaze cuts the air like a dagger.

  “Well, I suggested Idris do his massage technique on Dean’s back, and you said—”

  “I know what I said,” she snaps, earning a look of surprise from the guy in question. “But it’s Dean’s back we’re talking about.”

  He sighs tiredly. “You know, at this point, I’ll try just about anything.”

  “Painkillers not helping?” I ask.

  “I’m not taking anything stronger than aspirin.” There’s a thread of steel in his words.

  Idris extracts himself from behind me, throws me a wink and heads over. “Where does it hurt?”

  Dean looks dubious but presses two fingers into his coccyx. “What are you gonna do?”

  “A light touch, that’s all.” Idris places his palm against the area and holds it there for about a minute, then steps away. “Express version. Try bending forward.”

  With caution and then disbelief, Dean bends over with no expression of pain at all. “What the hell did you do?”

  Idris chuckles and heads back to me. “Trade secret.”

  Shri studies Dean’s face. “So you seriously feel better?”

  Dean looks shocked. “Yeah.”

  “Magic touch,” I murmur, making Idris snort.

  Ty sticks his head out the door and calls us in. “Papa Jacobsen wants to say something.”

  Pepper comes flying up the slope right on cue, and we file into the house.

  When we’re assembled in the living room, Papa squeezes Mama’s hand and stands. “Just wanted to thank you for being here and being a part of our lives and family. We had a good thing going at the farm, and I’m glad we’ve been able to bring that same magic here. Thanks to all of you.”

  He grins. “I’d also like to congratulate Cadi and Idris on their engagement.” His smiling eyes fall on me. “Eighteen’s young for making a lifelong commitment, but in their case… Well, the writing was in the stars. We wish you two the best.”

  I bite my lip but can’t help getting teary-eyed. I hug Mama and Papa, then find myself tugged into Shri’s arms.

  To my surprise, Dean pulls me to his chest. “In the stars, huh?” he whispers, like Papa’s words are yet another puzzle to solve.

  I sigh. Guess it’s time I fessed up.

  I pull jeans and a sweatshirt over my nightclothes and step into the hall.

  Silence. But the soft squeaks of my sneaker soles on the polished wood floor seem deafening. I hesitate outside Dean and Ty’s room and swallow, questioning the wisdom of this early morning exchange.

  Dean could be that one in a hundred, I’d said. And meant it too. Even as far back as our heart-to-heart following Papa’s tractor accident, I’d detected more than a hometown jock beneath Dean’s gilded facade.

  Maybe Idris and Shri were right.

  I scrape a pointy fingernail across the door paneling.

  Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  A soft whine answers. The rustle of sheets?

  Cold dread pushes my feet triple speed down the hall.

  Squeak, squeak, squeak…

  Ugh. This is almost comical. I’ve got to be out of my mind.

  The soft creak of a door sends me scuttling down the stairs like Rango trying to outrun the desert hawk.

  I pause beyond the wall that runs between the kitchen and hall. The clatter of dog paws launches me toward the back door. I unlock and pull the slider, and pass into the first threads of predawn light.

  The steps off the back porch feel damp through my jeans as I plant my backside on the cold stone. A breeze rustles the nearby leaves. I shiver and tug the hoodie tighter to my face.

  The sliding door pulls back and Pepper flies out with more noise than seems reasonable for a dog his size. He sniffs my shoulder as he bounds past, then circles back and slaps a wet tongue across my green cheek, making me grumble in protest.

  Footsteps shift across the wood decking. Long, jean-clad legs extend across the steps as Dean settles beside me.

  I push my hands deep into my sweatshirt pockets and curse myself for my lack of planning. God, how do I even start
this conversation?

  Finally, Dean speaks. “What’s up?”

  I swallow my nerves. Kind of. “You wanted the truth.” My voice box rattles. “To know what you saw last night.”

  Pepper canters toward us, tongue lolling, ready to plant another wet one on my prone face. He veers left at the last second, front paws bucking the air, and hits Dean with a slobbery kiss across the jaw.

  “Pepper! Down, boy!”

  The dog jumps away and runs another circle.

  Dean taps a sneaker toe against the paved walkway. “Okay, so what was it?”

  Ugh. “What you saw wasn’t an it.”

  He harrumphs softly. “What was he then?”

  “She is a Livran.”

  Dean rubs both hands over his scruffy golden-blond hair. “Okay. So what’s one of those?”

  Chin lifted and back straight, I say, “To paraphrase Jake’s notorious Facebook post, ‘A freaking alien bitch with superpowers.’”

  Pepper drops onto the decking between us. I reach out a scaly green hand and pat his head.

  30

  Dean

  I gotta still be asleep because I’m sure Cadi just said the word alien and I don’t remember that being part of Jake’s Facebook slur.

  As I turn to press her on it, she reaches out a hand to pet Pepper.

  My mind’s still mulling over the reference to aliens, while my eyes study the green glove she’s wearing. Are those scales? Crocodile skin? “Why are you wearing gloves?” Then it hits me. “Oh, I get it. A costume.”

  “Jeez, Dean! You’re making this… Argh! Did you not hear me just say alien?” She tugs off her hoodie to reveal a startlingly realistic scaly green lizard mask.

  Then she looks right at me.

  Her eyes aren’t human. They’re big and green with gold rings around the pupils. She sucks her lime-colored lower lip between slightly pointed white teeth.

  I stare. Fascinated. And wonder how she managed this amount of realism without the help of a professional, movie-level costume designer.

  I find myself leaning toward her for a closer look.

  Those gold-edged giant green eyes blink several times, then roll dramatically. “Are you in shock?”

  “What?” I shake my head. Am I? I huff. “I’m trying to get what you’re telling me.”

  “You’re in shock, Dean. Why did I think this would be easy?” She waggles her hands in front of my face.

  “Yeah, I saw the gloves, okay?” Why is she being so in my face about this?

  My heart starts to pound in my ears and my breath runs short. Maybe she’s right, I do feel kind of strange.

  She groans. “I’m changing back. I don’t want you passing out on me again.”

  In the cold morning light, her skin turns to liquid silver, then morphs into Cadi. Pale-skinned, brown-haired, green-eyed Cadi. The Cadi I know. The Cadi I once loved.

  I hunch over and cover my face. “Tell me again,” I mumble into my palms.

  “I’m a shape-shifting alien, Dean. I’m not human. I may look human, but what you just saw is my normal, natural state. My race is Livran. I’m from a planet called Daïzani. And… what else do you want me to say?”

  “That you’re making this up,” I mutter. “That I’m still in bed asleep.” I lift my head to look at her again. Shit. I do feel weird.

  “I know this is hard to accept, but you wanted the truth.” She heaves a sigh. “And this is it.”

  I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m definitely dreaming this.”

  Cadi clenches her fists and wriggles in obvious frustration. “For Pete’s sake! How do I convince you that you’re not?”

  Best to make light of the situation. If I’m dreaming… Well, what the hell? I might as well pull out all the stops. I smirk. “Kiss me.”

  She crosses her arms. “I assume you mean as an alien.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Sure, why not?”

  She turns from silver to green. Yeah, I’m definitely dreaming, because that is simply not possible.

  Then she slaps me. Hard enough to rattle my brain.

  I gape at her.

  “Sorry, but Idris would kill me if I kissed you. Seemed like the next best thing.”

  I rub my cheek and fall back on logic. “If you’re really an alien, wouldn’t Pepper have attacked you or something?”

  “Why? He knows me.”

  “But not as an alien,” I point out.

  “Guess my smell doesn’t change that much.” Cadi hunches forward, arms crossed over her knees.

  I turn away from her and we sit facing the forest in silence. Though every now and again, I sneak a look at her head, at the deep green scales running over her cranium and down her neck.

  Impossible. Isn’t it? Or is it?

  I’ve seen her move a tractor with her mind. I already knew she was different. Just had no freaking clue how much.

  She mutters something and rubs at her chest, like she’s in pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Huh?” Her eyes shift across the tree line below us, then she jerks and sits up. “Did you feel that?”

  “Feel wha…?”

  The Earth shudders.

  The porch roof sways. I grab Cadi’s arm and pitch off the steps, pulling her away from the structure. We stagger across the lawn, stopping only when the ground stills.

  I catch my breath. “I think it’s over.”

  Her phone buzzes. Cadi pulls the device from her sweatshirt pocket. “Hello?” She glances at me, a frown on her green face. “Mr. Scrim? Hello?”

  She listens to a staticky voice on the other end of the line.

  “I don’t know. I felt something and then the ground shook… Yeah… Yeah. Okay, when will you get here? … No, I’m at the cabin. I’ll go check and call you back.” She pockets the phone, then starts down the hill.

  “Cadi, wait.” I head after her. “What’s going on?”

  “Dunno,” she calls over her shoulder. “Sorry, gotta run.” She takes off.

  I jog a few yards after her. “You want help?”

  She waves a scaly hand. “No. I’m good. Talk to you when I get back.”

  Shaking my head, I wander inside the house. My mind feels spongy after the fundamental shift in my understanding of the world—or apparently, the universe. Aliens do exist.

  Or is Cadi playing some elaborate game with me for sticking my nose into her life?

  31

  Cadi

  Despite the sun being almost up, I stick to Livran form so I can run faster.

  Something’s up with the crystal tree, but Mr. Scrim couldn’t tell me what. “A burst of energy,” he said. “Could be a defensive reaction to attack.”

  Attack from what though? Could the Evatenon have found the tree? Could I be running into an ambush?

  That sobering thought slows my pace. Before reaching the open area leading to the cave, I dodge off the trail and into the trees.

  From there, I take in the scene. The boulder rests exactly where I left it, sealing the entrance. Could something or someone have entered from the black bear’s den?

  I check the monitoring app on my phone. It says everything’s okay. I stuff the device back in my pocket and continue surveilling the area until I’m close enough to shift the vehicle-sized rock away from the opening.

  I wait before stepping from cover and take the opportunity to text Mr. Scrim. I’m heading into the cave. Will let you know what I find.

  I wait two more minutes, scanning for movement. Nothing. Pulling back my hoodie to see better, I step onto the trail and walk forward with guarded steps.

  The soft rustle of leaves and the breeze heightens my nerves. I reach the cave opening and slip inside.

  My Livran eyesight picks up the pinkish glow of the crystal tree. Its tendrils cover most of the cave ceiling.

  Flipping on my phone light, I walk the circumference of the cave, doing my best not to brush the dangly vines or their gently shifting tendrils.

  A third of the way a
round, I almost topple into a crevice in the cave floor. I jump backward and brace myself against the stony wall. That hole wasn’t there the last time I visited.

  A shuffling sound comes from deep within the cavern. I freeze and mentally prepare myself to take on a massive four-armed alien. Likely, with one of those arms carrying a nasty-looking laser weapon.

  Instead, my searching eyes pick out a small bundle on legs, then a second, scurrying from beneath the crystal tree. Bear cubs.

  Could they have caused that earthquake by chewing at the ar’n bala branches? Triggered some kind of defensive action from the tree?

  “Shoo, shoo.” I bend low, wave my arms and move forward, hoping to herd them back to their den.

  My efforts seem to be working. The cubs retreat the way they must have come.

  One last “shoo, shoo,” as I approach the back of the cave. Then I turn the corner and find myself face to face with a rather large, rather angry looking mama bear.

  I backpedal, fast, and hit the cave wall. My heart tries to escape out of my mouth, but it can’t squeeze past my throat. So it lodges itself in the narrow opening, making it impossible to breathe.

  The bear lifts onto her hind legs, brandishing paws bigger than Ty’s baseball mitt. “Grrrr,” she says.

  My pointy nailed fingertips find their way along the stone wall, navigating me away from the irate omnivore. She lets out a series of yips and plods after me.

  The cubs are behind her. So why’s she stalking me and not hustling them away to safety?

  “Grrrr,” she repeats.

  Idris should’ve given me lessons in bear-speak, then I’d know.

  Could I call him? Have him talk to her?

  Jeez, how’d that work, anyway? With speakerphone?

  My feet quickstep along the cavern wall, bringing me inches from the fissure.

  A high-pitched squawk from close by almost makes me jump out of my lizard skin. The squawking repeats, coming from the hole.

  I shift my infrared vision toward the ground. A bear cub perches on a tiny rock shelf, scratching at the stone wall.