Chameleon Moon

by RoAnna Sylver

  “Fun?” Evelyn’s lip curled. “That’s what you call possessing a dead child’s body?”

  “Actually, I’d call it practical.” The boy held out one hand, turned it over, examining it at all angles like a magpie with a piece of shiny foil. “Wasn’t like he was using it anymore. And weren’t you the one who said we had to use every single limited resource at our disposal? That we’re fighting a war, and need every able…body?”

  Evelyn said nothing. Hans grinned and pushed his advantage.

  “Why lose a soldier when you could gain a functioning ally? Come on, Ev. Every cloud has a silver lining. Right now, that’s me.”

  “You had a body. Toto-Dandy. What was wrong with him?”

  “A robot wolf? Fun for about ten minutes, but come on. I missed the little things. Breathing, speaking. Opposable thumbs.” Hans grinned with the dead teenager’s mouth, spread his arms wide. “Look at me! Ten years as a ghost, a month as a dog—and now I’m back! I’m a real boy!”

  “No, he was a real boy.” Evelyn glared. “I don’t know what you are. And you don’t know who he was. Do you? Do you even know the first thing about the person whose grave you robbed?”

  “Nope, sorry, I can only access the brains of living people. Dead brains are no good to me. Body still works great though! All ten fingers and toes. Broken bones are a little weird. But hey, look what this neck can do!”

  Evelyn looked away from the nauseating sight. “You don’t even know his name, do you?”

  “Bobby? Beanie?”

  “His name was Benjamin. Benjamin Kim. Everyone called him Benji.”

  “There, see, I was close. Damn, this kid’s got earwax.”

  Evelyn stared at him for a moment, face entirely blank; then her eyes went hard. She stood up from behind her desk. “He was so creative. Making things, instead of wrecking them… Something you wouldn’t know anything about, would you, Hans?”

  “Hey, now that’s not fair. It takes a very creative person to stay alive as long as I have. You know, so to speak.”

  “He was sixteen years old, almost seventeen; his birthday’s next Saturday. A musician. Talented. We jammed a couple times. He played the—what do you call it, the three-stringed guitar?”

  “Ukelele?” Hans supplied, examining his new fingernails.

  “That’s the one. Makes everything sound happy, kind of sunny. Like the world isn’t going to hell all around you. God, now I’m forgetting the names of instruments. Who am I, and what have I done with me?”

  “Careful, Ev. Nobody likes a mental breakdown. Believe me, I should know.”

  “And a couple weeks ago, I overheard him talking to Jenny. He was asking her what her favorite flower was. Lilies, she said. Can you believe that, thinking about flowers, in Parole?” She gave a harsh laugh. “I mean, I do, because Rose, I… She’s still missing, and…and I…” She paused, hand going to pinch the bridge of her nose. Stave off tears. “You know those…patches of green she leaves around the city? Her little breadcrumb trails? Where it’s Rose saying ‘hey guys, I can’t stay here for long, but we’re alive, and still looking for you?’ Sometimes there are flowers in them. And I guess some of them are lilies. Because a couple days ago, Benji walks in with a bouquet of lilies and gives them to Jenny, and—and you should have seen her face…”

  “I did! It was great.” Hans made Benji’s mouth smile, made his head nod. “I did see stuff when I was a dog, you know.”

  Evelyn stared at the dead boy in front of her. “I think I liked you better as a dog.”

  “Aw, now that’s not nice. Hey, happy thoughts! Remember how smiley you were a second ago? Jenny’s little heart melting about the flowers Benji gave her? Gosh, bet they were cute.”

  Evelyn folded her arms. “The next day, we used the lilies for his funeral.”

  Hans winced. “Ooh. Harsh. Yeah, I thought those things looked kind of old. Hey! Speaking of Jenny—I just remembered why I came in here.”

  “Oh, so you had a reason. Great.”

  “You know, I don’t remember you being nearly this sarcastic, Evelyn. You okay? Anything you wanna talk out, just you and me, one on—”

  “Get. To the. Point.”

  “Jenny wants to see you.” Hans clasped Benji’s cold hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. “She’s set up a little surprise for you down on the main stage.”

  “A surprise.”

  “Yep!”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “The kind that if I told you, it wouldn’t be one!” Hans made Benjamin Kim’s lips curl into a grin. His teeth were stained red with blood. Some were missing.

  Evelyn thought about the Jack-o-Lanterns people were putting up outside. People celebrated, even in Parole. Defiant until the end. Determined to get some joy out of life. By carving a pumpkin or playing a ukulele or digging through a burnt and gutted city to find lilies to make a girl you like smile.

  She wondered at what point you could keep calling yourself a good person. Or a person at all. She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep again. Or if she did, if she would ever stop seeing faces of the dead. Or bloody teeth with the gaping holes. Or Jack-o-Lanterns.

  Wordlessly, Evelyn circled her (Garrett’s) desk, and stalked toward the door.

  “Oh—one last thing!” Hans called with Benjamin’s voice. She stopped in the doorway, hand gripping the frame and fingernails digging into the wood. She did not turn around. “Happy Halloween!”

  ❈

  The Emerald Bar’s stage hadn’t seen a performance in a long time. It was much more useful as a conference and discussion center, and music and lights tended to attract unwanted attention. But tonight a single white spotlight lit up the otherwise dark center stage. In the middle sat Jenny Strings, and around the edge of the circle of light was a ring of lit candles, small flames casting wan glows and wavy shadows on her pale, thin frame and long silver hair. On her head sat a large black witch’s hat.

  “Hey, Jenny,” Evelyn called softly as she entered, stage left. She always took care not to sneak up on the girl; she’d had enough scares in her life. Actually, she was a little surprised Jenny seemed to enjoy Halloween this much. “Getting into the trick-or-treat spirit?”

  “Evelyn!” She smiled brightly, carefully waving without jostling the candles but not standing up. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come closer! I want to show you something.”

  Evelyn crossed downstage to the edge of the candles, encouraged by actually seeing Jenny smile. She couldn’t remember the last time. “Glad to see someone’s having a good night. The one I’ve had…” She sighed. “I used to love Halloween as a kid, you know. But now, all I can think about is. You know. The dead. The real dead people.”

  “Oh, I know what you mean. Hello, Benji!” Jenny waved over Evelyn’s shoulder. And Evelyn turned around in surprise which quickly became irritation.

  “Hans.” She glared.

  “Hey there!” Hans waved back, a bright smile on his stolen face. “Thought I’d tag along! Wouldn’t want to miss the show.”

  “Of course,” Jenny Strings nodded, smiling. “Thank you so much for the flowers, Benji. They were so lovely.”

  “Jenny,” Evelyn said haltingly, a cold sliver of worry in her gut. “Do you remember…?”

  “Hmm? Oh!” Jenny looked at her, perplexed, then actually giggled. “Oh, of course I know it’s Hans! He’s just borrowing his body for a while.”

  “Then why—”

  “Why am I talking to Benji like he’s still here?”

  “Because he is still here,” she said, entirely matter-of-factly. “As long as we remember and care about him and keep loving him.”

  “Oh,” Evelyn sighed, intensely relieved. “Oh, yeah, of course. And, I mean, his body is here, because Hans is…using it. Benjamin Kim is still here in a very literal sense. Hopefully not for long. But he’s still with us. For now.”

  “Yes,” Jenny nodded. “That, and I can talk to the dead.”

  �
�Yeah.” Evelyn returned the nod, then stopped. “Wait—what?”

  “Dead people,” Jenny explained, rising and stepping out of the circle of candles. “I can contact them. You know how Chryesdrine powers are unpredictable, and sometimes people manifest new ones, or existing ones sort of adapt, and we’re not sure why?”

  “Uh…”

  “This is mine! It’s going to be very useful!”

  “Jenny,” Evelyn said slowly. She wasn’t sure if her brain was going a million miles an hour or had ground to a halt. Behind her, Hans snickered, and her head whipped back and forth as she glanced from him to Jenny and back. “What?”

  “Oh, it’s better if I just show you!” She shut her eyes and raised her arms. The candle flames jumped. But with no further ceremony or dramatics, an image appeared in the center of the ring. A man’s head, shoulders and torso, floating and translucent. But even partially see-through and with his back to them, Evelyn would have recognized him anywhere. The silver hair at his temples, the sharply defined angles and lines of his jaw and neck, the warmth of his brown skin, even weathered with stress and rough living, and what looked like new scrapes and scars. The breath was already catching in her throat before he turned, and she saw the crinkles at the corners of his familiar eyes and the way they widened when they fell on her. The slow smile that was nothing like the showman’s ringleader grin he could turn on and off at will.

  “Hello, Evelyn,” said Garrett Cole.

  Evelyn couldn’t say anything at all. She felt very cold.

  “Hi Garrett!” Jenny could, and she gave a cheery wave. “How’s Heaven?”

  “Heaven? Oh, child,” he gave a rumbling laugh, the deep, rich one Evelyn knew so well, that reverberated in her chest. She shivered. “You’re so sweet, assuming I’d have a snowball’s chance. I haven’t, ah—what’s the phrase? Gone into the light yet. Still so much to do around here. Like check up on you kids. I’m much more interested in how you’re doing.”

  “We’re okay,” Jenny answered instead. “Parole is Parole. Hot. Sad. We miss you.”

  “I miss you too, Chickadee. Where are your marionettes?”

  “Oh, I still have them! We dance all the time. But I’m learning so much,” Jenny smiled. “Like how to talk to you! I need my hands free if I want to cast spells like this.”

  “Well, you’re doing so good, Jenny. I’m proud of you,” Although he spoke to Jenny, he never took his eyes off Evelyn, who felt, appropriately, as if she’d seen a ghost. Words still wouldn’t come. She could barely even breathe. “Proud of you both.”

  “Evelyn?” Jenny looked up after a few seconds. “Say something. He’s missed you so much.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of horrors since this all began,” Evelyn said quietly. “And maybe a couple miracles too. I’m a believer. Chrysedrine gave us nightmares, but…it gave us beautiful things too. Maybe…maybe it’s giving you back to me.” Her voice shook and she stopped, shut her eyes. When she opened them again, they were hard. “But not yet. I have to be sure.”

  “I understand,” Garrett’s image nodded slowly. “You are more than entitled, and you were always wise. And you’re the leader now. You have to be smart.”

  “If you’re Garrett—my Garrett Cole—if you’re really him, from beyond the grave, talking to me on…on Halloween Night…” Evelyn’s mouth twisted into something half-smile, all-pain. “Tell me what I asked for when we met. Tell me why I wanted Chrysedrine. It shouldn’t be hard to figure out.”

  “Well, now that’s a trick question,” Garrett smiled, and now there was a hint of the razzle-dazzle grin. “Because everyone who takes the wonder drug wants to fix something. They’re sick or hurt or hate something about themselves, or the world has told them there’s something to hate about themselves. And they want to make that go away.”

  Evelyn stared back, pokerfaced, unreadable.

  “And you came to me. You were all of seventeen and nothing, running from that big, scary House on the hill. You had a name that wasn’t yours, and a whole lot of baggage. And I had the drug people called Wonderland.”

  Evelyn didn’t say a word.

  “And when I asked you why I should give it to you, you looked into my eyes, and you said…”

  Evelyn’s hands shook.

  Garrett smiled. “I want to be a hero.”

  Evelyn let out her breath in a rush.

  “You said ‘there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing you can fix with your miracle drug, because I’m not broken. I just want power.’ And that made me sit up and listen! Because nobody had ever said that to me before!” Garrett was smiling wider now, eyes lit up and looking more alive as a dead man than most people Evelyn had seen live and breathe. “And I said, ‘power for what, exactly?’ And you said, the power to help people who were scared and alone, like you. The power to fight back against the forces that were crushing this city, your home and mine. The power to save the day, and make someone’s life worth living. Save someone’s life, even if that’s your own. And most of all, you just wanted to sing. Because sometimes…it’s the same thing.”

  A tear rolled down Evelyn’s face. Then another.

  “And I said, girl…” Garrett blinked hard as a smile lit up Evelyn’s face for the first time. “I said, girl. I can give you power. I can help you sing and fight and fly. And you can save the day.” He spread his translucent hands. “And look at you now. I was right. Like I always am. Now, what do you have to say?”

  “Garrett?” Evelyn whispered. “I missed you so much!”

  “And I missed you, my sweet little strawberry!”

  “Ohh, this is so beautiful!” Jenny sighed, eyes shining with happy tears. “And none of this would have happened if I couldn’t talk to the dead…”

  “Ha!” Somebody snorted from behind them, and they all turned to see Hans’s Cheshire-cat grin, recreated in a dead boy’s face. They’d forgotten he was there. “He’s not dead. Jenny, did you start to believe your own lie? I always knew you were a little off, but. Wow.”

  Evelyn’s eyes snapped open wide. “Garrett’s not dead?”

  Jenny blanched. “No—no, of course he’s dead! Look at the candles! And my witch hat! I made it all spooky—it all means, ‘she’s talking to dead people!’”

  “Plus, you found my note. The recording,” Garrett cut in, exchanging a desperate glance with Jenny. “And the scene of my death. And there were witnesses. I’m a public figure! Reports of my death would not be exaggerated. Ask anyone in Parole. Garrett Cole is dead.”

  “No he’s not,” Hans snickered.

  “I’m talking to you from the hereafter right now.”

  “No you’re not. You’re talking to us from somewhere in New Mexico.”

  “Why?” Jenny gasped, looking on the edge of tears. “Hans! Why would you tell the secret? It was a secret! Why would you?”

  The dead boy’s shoulders shrugged. “I got tired of all this sweetness. And, I mean, come on. Everybody knows there’s no such thing as ghosts. Evelyn, come on. Really? You’re basically the Queen of Parole by this point. You’re making life-and-death decisions, and you think little Jenny Strings here is talking to your dead dad-figure? You have lost your damn mind. I mean, if that’s what it’s come to, then we really are all screwed.”

  “Shut up, Hans!” Garrett snapped. “And get out of that poor boy’s body!”

  “And miss all this drama? You have to be kidding. This is the most fun I’ve had in decades. I’ve been so bored. Parole doesn’t get cable.”

  “Quiet!” Evelyn’s hands sliced through the air. “Whatever’s going on here, I don’t like it at all. You—all of you! Stop it! Stop the games. Stop the acts, stop the riddles. Just. Tell me. The truth.” Her finger whizzed through the air to point at Hans as he opened his mouth in a crooked smile, before he could speak. “Except for you! I don’t want to hear you talk for a minute. Sixty seconds, I know you can do that. I have faith.”

  Hans made a slow, exaggerated lip-zipping motion with a wid
e smile and buggy eyes, then rested one hand on his hip. He glanced down at one wrist—which did not wear a watch—then back up at her, waiting.

  Evelyn took a deep breath, shoulders rising and then sagging as one hand went to rub at her temples. Her headache was back, and her eyes stung again as well. “Though after all this, this war, this collapse—this night—I’m not really sure how I have any faith left at all. In anything.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jenny whispered. “I…I didn’t mean to do anything bad. I didn’t like lying to you. You’re one of my most precious people, Evelyn. My heart sees you in the world, and it feels better. And I don’t want to hurt your soul.” She swallowed hard. “I was…trying to protect Garrett. And you.”

  “I told her to lie,” Garrett said, voice flat. “I made Jenny promise not to tell you, or anyone, I was alive. I pray that you never find yourself in a position where faking your own death is the only way out. But sometimes it really is the best option. Especially if there are people you need to protect.”

  “It’s quick, it’s easy and it’s free, huh?” Hans quipped.

  “What did I just say, boy?” Evelyn snapped, patience finally running out.

  “I dunno, I was too busy laughing over the fact that you still believe in ghosts.”

  Evelyn stared, two points of red appearing in her cheeks. “I believe that part of us survives,” she whispered. “We have a…a spark of something good and alive inside us, something divine, that isn’t just…just snuffed out, just switched off like a lightbulb, just gone. Excuse me for thinking that just maybe there’s the possibility that when we fall into the fire or get crushed under a building, or—or even take our own life, we’re not all just—”

  “Poof?” Hans offered. Evelyn’s arm slowly came up, finger pointing across the room. Hans shrugged, hands in his borrowed pockets, and wandered away the direction she’d pointed.

  “So. The recording I found at the Emerald Bar?” Evelyn turned back to Garrett’s image, making herself take deep breaths.