“It’s been about an hour on your day off, so—yes. Terribly. You don’t get enough.”
“I know. And I still don’t know if this is a good or bad one,” Evelyn’s tone and eyes dropped momentarily as they parted.
“You haven’t heard from Garrett?”
“No. The whole Bar’s still dark too—I’ll check in with Celeste and CyborJ if I still haven’t heard by this afternoon, but…” Evelyn looked over at Regan and nodded him over. “I wanted to at least introduce you two first.”
“I’m so glad to meet you, Regan. I’m Rose.” She turned her warm smile toward him, and for the first time since Evelyn’s song, he actually felt his clenched muscles start to relax.
“Rose?” He asked, looking at the vines and blossoms sprouting from her hair and twining around her arms like sleeves. “That’s… a pretty name.”
“I thought so!” She laughed and ushered them inside. “Evelyn’s told me you’re feeling a little disoriented.”
“Yeah, uh, you could say that,” he gave a nervous laugh as he followed; it sounded tight and brittle even to his own ears. “I can’t remember anything. I mean, I know my name, it’s Regan—you know that, sorry.”
“It’s fine, please don’t worry.” Rose said gently. “And that’s a great start. A lot of people suffering from amnesia don’t even have that.”
“But this is some weird amnesia.” Evelyn tugged her mask down and settled it around her neck, where it converted into a scarf. “Not sure if it's your everyday Parole psychological damage or... something else.”
“Something else?” Rose’s brow furrowed. “Chemically induced?”
“Maybe, but I’m thinking it’s someone playing with his head more directly. A psychic attack, telepathy or something. So I figured I'd bring him to you and cover all the bases.”
Rose smiled under the implied praise and looked up at Regan with her chin resting on her fist. Despite the fact that she was a stranger, and looking right at him with her full attention, he felt no increase in anxiety or impulse to flee. The fact that he even noticed this about his train of thought said something, and Regan wasn’t sure he liked it.
“So this is actually pretty interesting, because I don’t remember seeing you around here, Regan. And Ev wouldn’t have brought you to me if she knew, obviously,” she sucked on her lips as she considered, and Evelyn watched her thought process with a combination of fondness, amusement and pride. “Between us and Danae, I think we know almost everyone in the immediate area—oh, but you might not be from the immediate area, if your amnesia actually comes from some sort of psychic attack, whoever did it might have just dropped you here to throw everyone off the trail. Wait, hold up, Danae. I wonder if she knows? Let’s start there, simple first.”
“Simply amazing,” Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, I just love watching you do that.”
“Hmm? What?” Rose looked up at her, then Regan, as if she’d forgotten there were other people in the room. “Oh. Sorry! I get a little… I just like figuring things out.”
“Uh… sorry I can’t be of more help,” Regan tried to smile back and found it hurt his face. He must be out of practice. “And, uh, with the scales and eyes and—and tongue? I think I’d remember… me.” He held up one hand and studied his long nails. He wondered if they came to points naturally, or if he’d filed them that way. When he lowered it, he wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Don’t worry, Regan. Whether this is mental or emotional, basic physical or with an element of Chrysedrine enhancement, we’ll figure it out. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Seems like Parole could, uh, use a lot of therapy.”
“Healing of all kinds, and that’s how I like to think of it.” As Regan watched, a blossom beside her ear opened before his eyes, green tendrils curling up and around it. “There’s so much trauma here, physical and emotional, and I do whatever I can, wherever I can.”
“Well… I want to get better,” he said quietly. “So whatever you can do for me, that’d just be great, okay? I don’t like not knowing where I am or what’s going on or—it feels like falling. I’m off-balance and I don’t like it. I know I could just ask people until I know everything but I want… I just want everything back, that’s all. So how do I get it back?”
“Well, I know it sounds backwards, but we could start by me asking you questions. I’d like to get a feel for where you’re starting from, if that’s all right.”
“Shoot.”
“Can you tell me what year it is?”
“Uh… twenty… twenty-something.”
“All right, good. Where are we?”
“Parole.” He looked from Rose to Evelyn, suddenly nervous about giving a wrong answer, even though the entire point was that he wouldn't know them. “But I only know that because Evelyn told me.”
Rose paused, chewing her bottom lip. “Regan… where is Parole?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. A tingle of fear went up Regan’s spine. Suddenly he wanted to run right out the door. Except that once he got outside, he wouldn't be any safer. There was nowhere to run. “Somewhere hot. There's a barrier over it… and we're all trapped--trapped inside. Over fire.”
“Yes, but we’re surviving.” Rose nodded, her voice steady. “Life goes on, and we go on with it. We find ways.”
“But why are we here? Did we do something wrong?”
“It’s…” Rose glanced up at Evelyn, one hand going to unconsciously fiddle with a blossom sprouting from her wrist like a corsage. “It’s not so much something we did. It’s just something we live with now.” As she spoke, a sound rose from behind her, a rhythm like small rapid footsteps. Regan’s eyes swiveled, anxious to find the source of the sound, but Rose just smiled. “Someone's awake.”
“EVVVVIEEEE!”
“Jack-o-saur!” Evelyn scooped up the little boy with the olive skin and poofed black hair around in a whirl of dress ruffles and pink hair, and they both giggled and squealed. “How has your morning been, my big lovely man?”
“I had cereal and I made a picture for you!”
“Oh my, I can’t wait to see it! But oh no, what’s this? I’m suddenly so hungry!” Evelyn bared her teeth in a play-monster grin, snorting and chomping and leaving lip-gloss kisses on his face. “Raawr! I’mma eat’cha!”
“Nooo!” Jack shrieked and blew a raspberry as she set him down, wiggling away and hiding behind Rose’s trailing skirts of vines. He grinned up at them like a nature pixie in the forest of flowers that draped and coiled around his face--then his dark brown eyes grew wide and round when they fell on their green, scaly visitor.
“Oh, I’m…” Regan started to apologize and take a step backwards, fighting the urge to turn invisible again, now that he knew what that felt like. He’d jumped as his own reflection the last time he’d caught a glance of himself in the mirror. Now he was about to make a child cry.
“Dragon.”
“What?” Regan blinked.
“You’re the dragon.” The little boy grinned. “Count to ten and find me!”
“Regan's busy right now, sweetie. Give us a minute.” Rose said gently when he didn't respond. “Or maybe five minutes.” She turned back to the staring Regan as the little boy tore happily away around a corner with Rose’s flowers in his hair. “And that adorable little natural disaster was Jack.”
“Uh-huh.” Regan stared after the little boy, smiling without expecting or meaning to.
“Remembering something?” Evelyn asked gently.
“Huh? Oh,” Regan looked back at her. “No, I don’t think so. It’s just, that kid… he wasn’t scared of me.”
“No. We get all sorts here, including scaly people.”
“I just… I figured with the teeth and eyes…”
“Mm-hmm. Nice and dragon-y. One of his favorite things.”
“You’d better remember your promise, Evelyn.” Rose smiled. “He’s been talking about showing you that drawing all morning.”
“I
wouldn’t dream of breaking it! It’s just as fun for me.”
“Anyway.” Rose led the way down the hall, her vines swaying and rustling. There were vines and flowers on either side of her as well; shelves lined the hallway, each one of them covered in small pots and troughs of plants, all of them bursting with flowers. “Danae’s shop is through here. I’m sure she’ll want to meet you anyway. If she knows you, we’ll be able to help a lot faster, and if not… I’m just getting warmed up. Regan, it goes without saying, but anything you can tell us would be a big help. Not just significant memories, but impressions, feelings you have, if something strikes you as important for any reason, don't hold back.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “What if… I don't think… um, speaking up doesn’t come that easy?”
“Then even that's a clue right there. Thank you.”
“You're, um, you're welcome.”
Something whizzed past Regan’s ear as they walked, too fast to see beyond the shape of a shining metal butterfly. Regan became aware of a faint whirring noise, like small gears or a far-off engine. Rose’s step was irregular and a little jerky, and as he looked closer, Regan noticed she didn’t wear a grass skirt after all. It was a cascade of thick vines, blossoms and tendrils that twined around her legs like flowering ivy climbing up lamp posts. Her legs were made of some kind of gleaming metal that flexed and stretched as she moved. Regan peered closer at the tiny gears and delicate clockwork beneath the main chassis of shining, flexible alloy, tongue flickering in and out in thought.
“Nice legs,” he said. Then he immediately shut his mouth, then eyes. “Sorry.”
Rose turned around and looked at him with raised eyebrows, then broke out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re fine. Yes, these are my favorites too—almost seven years old, but they’ve always been the most comfortable. My wife made them,” she explained as she opened a door at the end of the hallway. “We make a lot of things. The plants are obviously mine… but metal and moving is her department.”
The room she revealed opened up into what might have been a large garage at one point, but there was no car. Instead, it looked more like a museum, with huge arcing skeletons like the displays of dinosaur bones and half-finished humanoids—but everything was metal. Regan’s next thought was that they’d walked into some avant-garde artist’s metalworking studio, or maybe an auto mechanic’s workshop, given the wide array of tools, iron pipes and gears that hung from the walls and stood like indoor jungle gyms.
“Everything?” Regan turned around in a circle, taking in the metallic sculptures—and now that he looked, he saw what Rose had meant by ‘moving.’ There was no wind in the closed room, and all of these pieces were much too heavy to be moved even if there were, from the small individual cogs to what looked like a half-constructed elephant in the corner… but they were shifting, ever so slightly. Almost as if they were breathing.
“Everything,” Rose nodded. “Now, most of these are works in progress, so they won’t do much even if you go right up and kick them. But there is one you might get to meet later, and he’s pretty special. So if you see or hear something big moving around, don’t be surprised.”
“Okay. These are all so…” Regan trailed off and froze as a new bizarre development sloped around the corner.
A giant black bear of a dog stared at him with bright blue eyes that weren’t eyes, the way Rose’s legs weren’t legs. They were some kind of swirling halogen light, shining fire-bright and hard, and fixed on Regan. He couldn’t move. For the second time since entering the house every instinct in his brain screamed to run. A rushing flooded his ears, and his breathing became quick and shallow. There was nothing left in the world but him and the five-foot tall dog, and the beast was winning without blinking an eye.
“It’s all right, this is who I was telling you about just now.” Rose noted his discomfort and stepped forward. “And Toto-Dandy loves people, don't worry.” She stopped as the wolf’s black lips curled in a snarl, revealing jagged-edged metal teeth. “Usually. What’s wrong, puppy?” She went up to the beast and scratched its ears. The snarl faded, but those disturbing blue not-eyes stayed on Regan.
“Hi there, boy.” Regan swallowed hard against his instincts and held his ground. “Good dog.” He slowly reached out his hand—and recoiled at the low rumble from the black throat. The growl had a strange, mechanized sound, like it was being played through a speaker from inside a tin can.
“It’s okay, boy.” Rose soothed the sleek, dangerous animal. “He’s our friend. It’s okay.”
“Dandy?” Jack poked his head out from his hiding place underneath a table, eyes round. The wolf-thing turned its head toward the little boy and all hostility melted away. It gave a gentle little yip and bounced over to Jack like a giant puppy, keeping itself between the boy and Regan.
“See, it’s okay.” Jack threw his arms around his friend’s thick, furry neck. The wolf swished his tail and opened his huge maw wide—the needle-sharp metal teeth disappeared, replaced with soft, terrycloth-cushioned gums. He closed his mouth gently around Jack’s entire midsection and picked him right up off the ground while the little boy chattered happily. With a last warning glance at Regan, the beast loped off, carrying his ‘pup’ to safety.
“Wear a mask if you’re going outside, sweetie!” Rose called after the little boy, then turned back to her guest. “I’m sorry, Regan, I don’t know what got into him…” She shook her head, as three more little metal butterflies whizzed by her head. “Toto-Dandy is a wonderful guard dog, but maybe he needs an adjustment or two. I’ll ask Danae to tinker around with his head a little.”
“I dunno, I made him to keep out strangers. Seems like he’s doing his job.” A new voice made Regan turn as a short young woman with pale skin, freckles and a bushy ponytail of fiery red hair descended from a metal staircase behind them. She looked like she might have just crawled up from the fire—her face was smeared with ash, and the heavy welder’s gloves she wore were stained with oil and burns. She removed the chunky gloves from her hands and wiped her sweaty face on her freckled forearm before blowing Evelyn a kiss and giving Regan a friendly little wave and grin. “Sorry if he gave you any trouble—you’re right, Rosie, he might need a little mellowing out, since I assume this guy’s not here to ruin all our lives.”
“No, no, I promise! I’m just here for some help. My name’s Regan.”
“I’m Danae. Nice to meetcha.” She held out a callused, rough hand, and happily almost crushed Regan’s when he shook it.
“You too.” Regan shook his head and cleared his throat, still trying to shake off the strange disorientation he’d felt earlier (and trying to get the feeling back in his hand). “Uh, this might be a weird question, but is that dog… real?”
“Oh don’t worry! I get that all the time. He’s alive, if that’s what you mean. He’s also a conglomeration of gears, scrap metal, old car parts, broken lawnmowers, super glue, and whatever the hell else I can get my hands on. I put it all together, added some fur and fangs, and gave it some juice. Brought the pieces to life. He’s something more than the sum of his parts.” She stood grinning with hands on her hips and caught her breath, pride seeming to burst out of every cell in her small, compact-muscled body.
“He sure is… something.” That seemed to be Regan’s cue to comment. Now he shivered, remembering the cold adrenaline that flooded him at the synthetic beast’s growl. He never wanted to be that afraid again, but was sure that was too much to ask.
“Thank you!” Danae seemed to take it as a compliment, unaware of his misgivings. “Toto-Dandy’s one of my special babies. Infused him with extra instinct to guard and protect, and a nice little silent alarm that tells me whenever he’s agitated… like he did just now. He’s a great pal for Jackie, too.”
Regan nodded, and tried to move on to anywhere but the memory of those huge metal fangs. “Rose and Danae… what? If I can ask?”
“You can ask. But nope, sorry. No last names. Not in Parole, no
t to strangers.” Danae shook her head apologetically. “ Not trying to be rude, it’s just safer that way.” She exchanged a glance with Rose. “Actually we’re not even saying these are our real first names.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the name ‘Rose’ was a pretty big coincidence.” He smiled as Rose laughed and gave a little shrug. “Okay. I understand.” He nodded, even if he didn’t, not entirely. “Well, Regan’s my real name, as far as I know. So you made… everything here?”
“Yep. And lots more where that came from.”
“Do you ever make cats?” He asked before he could stop himself.
“Yeah, all the time.” She nodded. “They’re some of my most popular models.”
“Why? What are they for?”
“Anything,” Danae said. “Anything you need.” She held out a hand, and one of the little whirring butterflies landed with a clink to perch on her pinkie finger. “These little honeys are great for carrying notes, finding lost keys, zapping mosquitoes…” The butterfly fluttered away, glinting. “I make animal models like Toto for lonely people or kids who want pets but have allergies. Helpers for the elderly and disabled. Or just…friends.”
“And they’re alive?”
“Yes.” Danae nodded firmly. “That’s what Chrysedrine gave me. After the pain stopped, the gift started. Might as well use it to improve peoples’ lives.”
“Chrysedrine? What is that, a drug?”
“It’s the drug.” Danae said, with a hint of bitterness. “Some people call it Wonderland. I think it’s because once you’re down the rabbit hole, there’s no going back.”
Regan looked at one arm. His scales regularly had a dull greenish gleam, but when he moved them directly under the light, they shone a brief, striking iridescent. He quickly pulled his arm back and wished for longer sleeves. “And this was my… side effect.”
“It does a lot of different things to different people,” Evelyn said slowly. “Sometimes it shows, but not always. I can knock down buildings with my voice. Rose…”
Chameleon Moon Page 5
