Perfect Pitch (The Chameleon Effect Book 2)

by Alex Hayes

  Mr. Scrim looks up at me. “The ar’n bala will not serve them, so they would destroy it.”

  Idris shakes his head. “I thought they wanted to make farm animals out of us, so they could make use of our shape-shifting abilities.”

  The carer lets out a sad sigh. “According to the intelligence Valdar passed on to Cadi, no Evatenon females remain among the warriors stranded here.”

  My lips press together hard. Right, the only female Evatenon who followed us to Earth assimilated my mother and was killed by Valdar, Idris’s dad.

  “Which means,” Mr. Scrim continues, “they cannot reproduce. And if they can’t reproduce, they have no need for additional Livran to assimilate. In fact, by destroying the ar’n bala, they will ensure we cannot build a colony here either.”

  I suck in a breath. “You mean we can’t have kids unless we have crystals?”

  The carer’s eyes narrow. “There is nothing to stop us reproducing, but the Livran and ar’n bala crystals have had a symbiotic relationship for as long as we’ve had recorded history. We don’t know what life would be like without a symbiont. Our crystals help balance and bond us. Once the stones settle, they bind us to all Livran and to their own collective. They create a psychic web, a community, of which we’re all a part.”

  My heart speeds up. “And you’re putting me in charge of this tree’s safety? Something our whole future depends upon?”

  The carer stands. “I’m confident in your ability to care for it, Cadi.”

  I twist my fingers together. “How easy would it be for the Evatenon to find the tree?”

  For the first time, Mr. Scrim’s eyes glimmer with genuine concern. “Only one of them has that capability.” He glances at me. “The one who assimilated your father.”

  I suddenly feel sick. “How easily could he find it?”

  Mr. Scrim casts me a long look. “He’d have to come within a few miles to detect it.”

  Idris slips an arm around my waist. “So we should be safe. I mean, what are the chances he’ll just happen to come that close?”

  “Small,” the carer admits. He pulls a fancy brushed aluminum box with a liquid crystal display out of his backpack. “They have no knowledge of the cutting’s existence. As far as we know.”

  I feel the damp chill of the cave and shiver. “That’s good then, isn’t it?”

  Mr. Scrim nods as he grabs a metal probe dangling from the device and sticks it into the cave’s dirt floor. “This is a standard weather station for monitoring temperature and humidity. However, I’ve modified it to collect soil pH, and for your convenience, created a phone app, so you can check the levels regularly. You’ll have to rely on Bluetooth, which means coming back to the cave, but you won’t have to open the entrance every time.”

  Not having to move that huge boulder at each visit is a definite plus. Especially when you never know who might come rambling through these parts.

  “In a few weeks, you’ll need to add some acid to mimic the fogs that rise off Daïzani. This is necessary for crystal-bearing, which only happens during the mist season on our homeworld.”

  Idris chuckles. “Sounds like we need a meteorology course, Cadi.”

  Scrim flashes a smile. “That I can provide, with your help, Idris.”

  “Okay, what do I have to do?”

  The carer stretches out his hands. “Receive my memories using your mind transference ability.”

  I sense Idris’s hesitation. He’s been putting off using his ability to receive the memories Valdar gave to me, like he’s afraid or something.

  “Okay, fine,” he says, but he doesn’t sound it, and I pick up his nervousness. He lets go of me and approaches Scrim. “How do I know which memories to take?”

  “That’s entirely up to me,” the carer replies. “You can’t take another’s memories. You can only receive those voluntarily given.”

  Idris nods, the tightness in his shoulders loosening. He grips Mr. Scrim’s fingers. “Now what?”

  “Relax. Open your mind to me, your willingness to receive, and let the memories in.”

  The cave goes silent while the crystal in my chest gently vibrates, picking up Idris’s discomfort, then surprise, and finally, relief. The memory transfer must be working.

  Idris lets out an explosive breath and drops Mr. Scrim’s hands. “Wow! That was cool. The weather in Daïzani can be pretty dramatic.”

  The Livran carer smiles. “It can, indeed. Now, pass the memories I gave you on to Cadi.”

  Anxiety churns in Idris’s chest once more as he turns to me.

  “I don’t bite,” I murmur.

  He smirks and grabs my hands. “Ready?”

  I lift my chin. “Sure.” Receiving Valdar’s memories had seemed effortless, which I guess it was. He did all the work. And now it’s up to Idris to do the same.

  I’m almost surprised when images of an otherworldly landscape slide into my mind. Heavy mists lower, the sky darkens and auroras fill the sky. I gasp at the beauty.

  A moment later, torrential rain pounds the ground, creating shallow lakes and rivers across the dry land. Then a tangerine-colored sun breaks free of the sage-green clouds. The bone-biting chill turns to tropical heat, the air heavy and humid, and flying insects the size of birds swarm overhead.

  The memories shift to a cave with a fully grown crystal tree. Stringy burgundy branches hang from a rocky ceiling. At their tips, clusters of crystalline blossoms catch the sunlight streaming through a cavern entrance.

  Images fade into a pale yellow fog and Idris releases my fingers.

  I blink a few times to clear the buzz in my head. “That was amazing.” I sniff back the tears gathering. “Daïzani’s so beautiful.”

  I look into Idris’s eyes. They reflect a similar sadness. We’ll never get to see its awesome landscapes. None of us will.

  I sniff again and turn to Mr. Scrim. “You’ll guide me through this, right?” I’ve some basic insight now, but nowhere near enough to manage a young tree on my own.

  “Certainly.” The carer hooks his backpack over his shoulders and tugs the floating case toward the cave entrance. “I’d stick around if I could, but I’ve ten bonded pairs to recouple and bring back here.”

  Idris grabs the second handle on the storage case. “That shouldn’t take so long, should it?”

  Scrim casts his eyes to the ceiling. “That depends on what kind of trouble they’ve gotten themselves into. First on the list is Rowan. Reno, Nevada. Fire and Ice, I like to call her.” His smile is affectionate. “She has the ability to instantly heat or cool any object. Unfortunately, she’s still learning to control it. I need to work with her on that. Once I’ve picked her up, we’ll take a road trip to Los Angeles to find her bond mate. He’s dropped off the radar.”

  Idris hesitates. “You mean he’s disappeared?”

  “He ran away from foster care about six months ago and is playing hooky. But don’t worry, we’ll find him once we get down there.”

  “How?” I ask, following them.

  “Through Rowan’s crystal. Just as you and Idris can sense each other’s crystal from a long distance. With some effort, I could find him myself, but to detect another Livran—other than your mate—you have to be close by.”

  The carer pats my shoulder. “Once I’ve collected them, I’ll come right back. But don’t worry, I have complete faith in your ability to take care of the crystal cutting, Cadi.”

  Exiting the cave, we shift back to human form.

  I glance at Mr. Scrim and force a smile, wishing I had as much faith in my ability as he does.

  2

  Dean

  “So, Dean, I have to ask…” Shri studies me from the passenger seat of my Subaru, a half smile on her dark features as she latches her seat belt.

  I reach for the ignition. “What?”

  “How do you keep your car this clean?” The curtain of tight braids covering the left side of her face swings as she shakes her head. On the right side, shorter hair curls
around her ear, leaving its studded edge exposed to catch the sunlight. “Mine is such a dump.”

  “Still feels like a new car, I guess.” I turn the key and the radio clicks on. Voices from a public radio show fill the space around us. I flip the sound off. “First wheels of my own, you know.” I’ve barely owned the vehicle two months.

  “Say no more.” She relaxes into her seat. “You can put Fresh Air back on, if you want.”

  Fighting a smile, I put the car in reverse, instead, then cast her a glance before pulling out of the space in the school’s parking lot. “Seriously?”

  Her perfectly curved eyebrows rise. “What’s so weird? You, apparently, listen to public radio.”

  “Only since I got the car.” I smirk at her. “But it’s kinda grown on me.”

  She nods, slowly. “Let me guess, the tuner’s broken.”

  The car was my gran’s, and I never had the heart to change the station. “Nope. Like I said, it’s grown on me.”

  Shri sighs. “Yeah, well, I’ve been marinating in Science Friday for so long Ira Flatow’s hit bone-marrow. My dad’s mad for the show.”

  “So if I turn on your radio, what’ll I hear?”

  “Nothing, actually.” An eyebrow twitches as she returns my smile. “It died last year, and I’m pretty much waiting for the rest of my heap of a Jeep to follow suit.”

  As I navigate through the parking lot, a shout from outside draws my attention. Jake. I almost roll up the window.

  My former best friend stands beside his yellow hot rod. Next to him is his girlfriend and her twin sister, who Jake wanted me to ask out months ago.

  He holds up his thumbs with mock approval. “Hey, if it ain’t Gomez and Morticia!”

  “He’s such a dick,” I mutter, then glance an apology at Shri.

  She shrugs. “Good thing you’re not friends anymore then, ain’t it?”

  Five months since he ruined my life, and I haven’t spoken to him since. I took a stand, and he turned everyone in school against me.

  Everyone except Shri.

  After casting Jake a frigid look, I turn out of the school lot.

  Two weeks. That’s all we have left and high school will be over.

  Shri’s lips part, then her phone buzzes. She rifles through her courier bag for the device, glances at the screen and puts it to her ear. “Hello?”

  A gravelly voice shouts loud enough for me to hear, “Shri? That you?”

  Her brow twists as she holds the phone a few inches from her lobe. “Hey, Mr. Jacobsen.”

  The Jacobsens used to own the goat farm where Shri and I work. Then they moved across state lines from Vermont to New York after Tom Jacobsen was hurt in a tractor accident.

  A shudder ripples between my shoulders. Shri and I were on the scene when the accident happened. If it hadn’t been for Cadi and her telekinesis, Tom could’ve died.

  And if it hadn’t been for my big mouth and Jake, Cadi and the Jacobsens would still be here.

  “Seriously?” Shri says in response to Tom’s words. Her eyes widen as she looks through the windshield. “How long? Sure I’m interested. Yeah, my last day at the farm’s tomorrow. Matt gave me notice a while back. Writing was on the wall though, you know… So let me talk to Dad, make sure he’s okay with it, and I’ll call you back.”

  A murmur comes from the phone.

  “He’s right here, actually, but driving. Can I give him a message?” She listens for a minute or so, then says goodbye and hangs up.

  We approach the goat farm entrance, where Shri abandoned her car this morning and caught a ride to school with me. I slow to take the turn. “What was that all about?”

  Shri grins, still clutching her phone. “Tom Jacobsen just invited us to work for him over the summer. He’s planning a building project on their property in the Adirondacks and needs help. Says the work’ll take a couple of months and he could use both of us.”

  My chest deflates because, as great as the job sounds, I can’t take it. I grope for an easy excuse. “Where would we stay?”

  “At their place. He says they have guest rooms.”

  A crushing sensation in my abdomen makes me pause. “And what about Cadi?” I wish it didn’t hurt so much to say her name out loud.

  Shri’s shoulders drop. “Didn’t ask, but I assume she’ll be there.”

  I pin my eyes to the dirt road ahead. “And she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.” Shri frowns like she’s not happy about where this conversation’s going. “Maybe inviting us was her idea.”

  No way in hell. “Yeah, which makes total sense since she disappeared off the face of the planet.”

  “She lost her cell phone.”

  “And then she found it and I haven’t heard a peep from her since.” I slow as we come to a cattle grid and the car rumbles over the top. “Have you?”

  Shri sighs. “She texts occasionally, though it’s been a while.”

  “Let’s face it, she blames me for everything that happened after Tom’s accident.” And so she should. “I’ve got to be the last person she wants to spend the summer with.” Even though I’d jump at the chance to see her again, try to make things right between us. Damn it, I still care way too much about her.

  I swallow a sigh. It’s impossible for me to leave home right now, anyway. But I can’t explain that to Shri without telling her all the things I’ve kept hidden over the two years I’ve known her.

  “What if Cadi didn’t mind you being there? Would you go?” she asks.

  “I have a job at the farm. Matt didn’t give me notice.”

  She rolls her eyes and I can guess what she’s thinking. Writing was on the wall though, you know… I’m next.

  Except, Matt needs an experienced worker. He can’t run the farm alone. We’re stretched already and it’ll be worse when Shri leaves. He’d be crazy to let me go.

  I stop the car next to her Jeep Cherokee and turn off the engine. “It’s not just having the job here. Or Cadi, either. I need to take care of my brother.”

  Shri freezes, then says slowly, “So how come you never mentioned you have a brother?”

  Crap. Two years, and yeah, I’ve never mentioned Ty. I pull out the car key. “Because he never came up in conversation.”

  Shri stares at me. “How is that even possible? You’ve mentioned your dog, like, a million times.”

  Sure, because Pepper is normal, unlike the rest of my family. But how am I going to explain that to you?

  “Is he older than you?” she asks.

  That might justify my not mentioning him, if he’d moved away and was never home.

  I sigh because the proverbial lid is swiveling off a can of worms I’ll never get closed again. “Younger. Eleven in September. Ty. Short for Tyler, but he hates that name.”

  Shri waits, arms crossed and eyes expectant.

  I rub my hands down my thighs. “He’s a little different, that’s all. One of those creative kids. Plays guitar like nobody’s business, thinks the sole purpose of a phone is to shoot video and that he’s gonna be the next Stan Lee. He’s highly distractible and next to impossible to get to do homework. In short, a pain in the butt.” Not a fair description of my baby brother, but I’m hoping it’ll convince Shri to let this go.

  “He sounds wonderful.” Her enthusiasm makes me think she really means that too. “You’ll have to introduce us sometime.”

  I force a smile. “Yeah.” Totally not happening.

  Shri glances toward her Jeep. “Guess I’m outta here. Hopefully Matt figured out what’s wrong.”

  I get out of the driver’s seat and rest my forearms on the car roof, while Shri throws her bag onto the Jeep’s passenger seat and starts the engine. The painful metallic groan, like a gearshift being forced without using the clutch, makes me shudder. The engine stalls and the driver’s door opens.

  Shri looks at me. “What does that sound mean?”

  I purse my lips because I don’t think she’s going to want to hear my
diagnosis. “Problem with the transmission.”

  “As in it needs to be replaced,” Matt Thompson calls from the direction of the barn. He strides toward us in tan overalls and a long-sleeved denim shirt, rubbing his bristly wheat-colored hair. “Must’ve been giving you trouble for a while.”

  Shri’s face scrunches. “Yeah. I was hoping she’d last through the end of school.”

  Matt offers a sympathetic nod. “You got Triple-A? Because you’re gonna need to get her towed.”

  She nods and rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll call them.”

  In less than half an hour, the Cherokee is hoisted onto the back of a tow truck and goes trundling down the driveway, leaving Shri staring after it.

  “Get in,” I say. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  She smiles her thanks and we head out. It occurs to me I don’t know where she lives and ask for directions.

  Is our friendship sad or what? That we know next to nothing about each other’s lives outside of work and school. I feel closer to Shri than anyone, yet I still don’t dare tell her the truth.

  Hell, what does that say about me?

  “This street here.” Shri points to a narrow road that passes between a couple of farmhouses, then winds up the side of a hill. “Gotta pick up the mail, so no need to turn in. I’ll walk from here.”

  The two farmsteads look rundown, one practically falling apart and the other with a front yard full of rusty trailers and gutted joyriders.

  I pull over beside a set of three mailboxes and she climbs out.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Welcome. Hey,” I call after her.

  She turns back to look through the passenger window.

  “You need a ride in the morning?”

  Her face drops. “Tomorrow’s my last day. Can’t miss that. I’ve gotta say goodbye to all the goat kids.” Half of which she watched being born in the barn.

  The melancholy in her eyes hits me like a fist to the diaphragm because, for the first time, I have to acknowledge that after tomorrow we won’t be working together.

  “Meet you here at a quarter till five?” she asks.

  I wink at her. “You got it.”