Chameleon Moon

by RoAnna Sylver

  “I saw scenarios where you were arrested. I saw you die. I saw you escape Parole and breathe clean air.”

  “Well, it would have been nice if that one had come true,” she couldn’t help muttering. But she spoke quickly; she had too many questions and not enough time. A common side effect of the drug was a pervasive fever-like delirium. It varied from person to person just how much it took over their mind—some were lucky, like Evelyn, and went through life essentially unaffected. Others, like Cassandra, could feel like they were walking in a dream nearly every waking moment. “Something happened at the Emerald Bar. Garrett Cole’s disappeared, he’s still missing. Then SkEye stormed our house and we ran, now it’s me, Rose, Danae—our little boy, Jack, I’ve told you about—”

  “I’ve watched him grow. Not the way I wanted to. Not the way I want to. I love who he is and who he’s been and who he will be, every single version.”

  Evelyn shut her eyes for a moment and made herself continue. “And now I get home and everything’s different. So many locked doors, and—the house, it’s all automated, gates, defenses—Liam! Mama, what’s—”

  “Be very careful.” Her mother spoke flatly, a dramatic departure from her warm, expressive tones from a moment earlier. Evelyn recognized her mother’s poker face, the carefully neutral expression she got when she was measuring how much to reveal. She had a similar one she wore herself, and had learned from the best. “He’s walking on very fragile ground. Everyone is in Parole, but the trouble is, that boy doesn’t even know it.”

  “I’m… worried about him,” Evelyn said at last. She was a lot of things, but that was one of them. “He told me he has a plan to put out the fire. That should be a good thing, but I have a really bad feeling. I don’t even know whose side he’s on anymore.”

  “Liam doesn’t know himself. It’s hard to be on anyone’s side when nobody’s on his. Not even his father.”

  “His father. Turret. The Major.” Evelyn’s voice went hard. “I knew he was at the top of this.”

  “He thinks he’s at the top of all things, and can see all the answers.”

  “What’s he doing, Mama?”

  “All the wrong things.”

  “I know. But it’s worse than usual, isn’t it?” Evelyn could feel her face getting hotter as her anger rose. “Liam won’t tell me what, but I know the Major’s involved in whatever he’s doing. And it’s not just about putting out the fire, is it? He’s always had this city crushed half to death under his boot and now he’s getting ready to—”

  “Evelyn.”

  “Yes?”

  “Some evil sweeps like a tidal wave. Systems of it, building on itself until it’s unstoppable, until it eats everything in its path like wildfire. Some stays quiet and small in a little room, where no one sees. There’s no fire, no thousands in pain, just a man in a high place who wants to get business done.”

  “Major Turret,” Evelyn nodded slowly. “He’s always been all about results. Doesn’t care about right or wrong; the ends are everything, not the means. But he’s the head of Eye in the Sky! His evil is a tidal wave, there is fire, thousands are in pain!”

  “That’s not where he’s looking. That’s not the result he wants.”

  “That’s the result he’s had, even if—”

  “That’s the evil you fight, sweetheart.” Cassandra looked at her with tears in her eyes and without slightest waver in her smile. “You rescue the thousands. You hear their voices crying out and come running.”

  “Yeah.” Evelyn nodded and felt her own eyes sting in reply. “Anyone with any sense would run the other way, but. I’m just not very good at that.”

  “You’re here fight against the wildfire. I’m here to fight the evil in the little rooms.”

  “You’re… you’re fighting him?”

  “When the time is right, yes. We’re not powerless. That’s the mistake everybody makes, thinking we are. Please don’t ask me any more questions about this place, it’s safer that way. Trust your mother. I still know best.”

  “I can’t accept that, Mama. If you’re in danger here I have to help you. You just said it, that’s what I do.”

  “Darling, things are going on that you cannot see.” There was a hard edge to Cassandra’s voice, one that wasn’t there often. But when it was, Evelyn listened. “You only see one side of this story. Ours will be told another day. Evelyn?”

  “Yes.” She prepared to absorb the next round of information, analyze, alter course.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  Now the tears came. Now she fell back into her mother’s arms and cried on her shoulder, finally letting go of all the worry, anger, heartache and exhaustion she’d been holding in ever since that last night at the Emerald Bar. But no, it hadn’t started then; Evelyn was too practiced at burying vulnerability and carrying on with the show. That night had just marked the end of one act and the start of another.

  It felt like a long time and only a few seconds at the same time before she let go, wiping her eyes. When Evelyn’s vision cleared at last, her heart sank. Cassandra stared into space over Evelyn’s shoulder, eyes out of focus. Whatever she saw, it wasn’t her daughter, or this room, or maybe even this day. Feeling a little chill, Evelyn moved back into her line of vision. “Mama? Can you hear me?”

  “Haven't seen the moon in a while, but it never goes away. Just changes its face…” Cassandra said softly, and now she looked faraway. A jolt of alarm shot through Evelyn—she recognized this look very well. “And it’s not a full moon, it’s not a blue moon… it’s a chameleon moon.”

  “What does that mean?” Evelyn asked very carefully, paying just as careful attention to the answer. Even if the things her mother saw were only potentialities, she knew better than to dismiss them. Especially not now, and not after all this time.

  “The world moves in cycles. We go from one phase to the next and everything’s different. The moon changes phases. Chameleons change everything too. The city on the Styx has seen a lot of change, but this is a big one. This one, oh, this puts the fire to shame.”

  “What… what do you see?”

  “Chameleon moon means change, and it’s coming closer. Storms and plague, dragons and ghosts, everything falling down into the fire, falling down, down…” Her eyes shone with a sudden glassy sheen, and widened in something that might have been awe, or fear.

  Evelyn swallowed hard. “Mama, stay with me. Take a deep breath, okay? Please breathe.” Cassandra didn’t seem to hear. “Please try to stay here with me.”

  “I have to look! It’s the only way we’ll know when it’s coming!”

  “You are stronger than they are.” Evelyn put both hands on her mother’s shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “And it is not your job to save us all—”

  “This isn’t just a possibility, Evvie, it’s the real thing, the one real thing I know for sure. And I have to warn everyone else, they have to listen to me, nobody listens to me!” Cassandra grabbed at her daughter’s wrist and clamped on like a steel vise. “There’s a storm, and there’s poison, and everyone is going to fall—”

  “Okay. Okay, I’m listening.” Evelyn whispered, voice catching in her throat.

  “I’m doing all I can here, but it’s not enough. No matter what, we’re going to lose people, you have to warn them, they won’t listen to me, nobody will listen—”

  “I’m listening. I promise. I’m listening.” Tears streamed down Evelyn’s face now as Cassandra sank back into the familiar depths of drug-poisoned waking nightmares. Her mother’s eyes closed and she began to slump forward even as she frantically gasped for breath and choked out terrified words. Evelyn caught her in her arms and held her close, gently replacing the veil over her eyes. Cassandra clutched at Evelyn’s shoulders, and now it was her turn to cry while being held close. Slowly, her panicked breathing slowed to normal and she came back to her senses. The attack faded, leaving her exhausted, but herself.

  “I love you, Mama.”


  “I love you too. Stay with me a while longer. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Softly, Evelyn began to sing. Her voice wrapped around them both like a warm blanket, and Cassandra relaxed, lines smoothing from her face.

  ❈

  “You really think there’s something down in the fire?” Finn took his eyes completely off the road to shoot Zilch a curious look. His taller, greyer companion didn’t seem at all disturbed, despite the speed at which they flew by Parole’s few functioning traffic signals, and many active fire pits. “I mean, nothing could survive in there. Hans has to be making it up.”

  “It’s a quiet night in beautiful downtown Parole,” Radio Angel’s voice, ever-present in Finn’s cab, was perky and bright as usual. “Birds are singing, toxic gas clouds are billowing up from flaming cracks in the ground, and my old high school just went up in a puff of smoke…”

  “I don’t know his reasons,” Zilch said, choosing their words much more carefully than Finn chose his lane. “All I know is that we’re going. I don’t have a choice. Not if I want my heart back.”

  Whatever concern Finn felt as he turned back to face the street wasn’t enough to make him actually slow down. “I don’t like this. He’s messing with you, but in a bad, scary way—okay, from what you’ve told me this guy messes with everyone, but this could actually kill you, which basically nobody else in Parole can do. I dunno, just sounds like a guy I’d want to get away from real fast.”

  “Now, it would absolutely make my night if anybody’s seen my good friend Cairus Maddox? He’s probably scared out of his mind by now, and really, for real, so am I.”

  “I know. But I—Finn?” They looked down quickly and pulled back their hood to get a better look at the previously animated driver, who had let out a sharp gasp, looking pale and sick. One hand pressed against a spot on his abdomen, and he seemed to be holding his breath.

  “Ow…” he gasped, rubbing his side. Multiple small explosions echoed outside, but the car only weaved a few feet back and forth across the side street. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic in this neighborhood.

  “Stitches again?” Zilch’s tone softened in an instant. “Breathe, Finn. Deep. Slow.”

  “I know!” Finn yelped. “I—ow! Man, I thought they took my appendix out, but I swear it feels like they put something in! It hurts…”

  “Stop the car here.” Zilch put their arm around Finn as he jerked the wheel in the general direction of the curb and slammed on the brakes. Their head smacked the window in a greasy spot with a network of cracks already radiating out from its center—but with less force than usual. This landing was unusually lackluster for Finn’s normal driving habits: a further symptom that only made Zilch worry more intently. “Deep breaths. In and out. Listen to the radio.”

  “He’s 19 years old, white and skinny with blonde eyes and blue hair—oh no, sorry, I’m nervous, got those mixed up…”

  “Okay. All right, I’m good now.” Finn caught his breath, looked up and smiled, a little shakily. “Besides, it’s all gonna be worth it to see Danae’s face.”

  “Mm. Working on her projects. Keeping busy. Important to feel useful.”

  “No, her dog!” Finn laughed. “She’ll be so happy! And she could really use some happy.”

  Zilch hid a smile by getting out of the car and closing the door, raising their black hood to completely obscure their face. “Don’t get too excited. Noise at the Bar last night got attention. Area will have Eyes.”

  The street was way too quiet, except for the constant undertone of sirens and helicopter blades. They both looked up at the long rectangle of night sky between the dark buildings like soldiers in a trench. Black helicopters with their searchlights cut bright paths through the sick, murky sky—more than usual.

  “Wow…” Finn breathed, swallowing hard. “They are busy tonight. They sure are.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Zilch took a slow look around, sharp eyes thoroughly inspecting the perimeter and coming full circle to rest back on Finn. “Angel would tell us if we were walking into danger. Unless you heard something?”

  “Nope. Come on, Danae said it was right up here,” Finn stopped in front of a mess of a broken door crisscrossed with bright yellow police tape and half-shattered windows on either side. “It’s probably this one.”

  Zilch surveyed the demolished front and refrained from further comment. The windows might have been edged with jagged broken glass, but they weren’t completely broken, suggesting nobody had yet been in and out. Unusual in Parole, where abandoned or condemned houses were picked through almost immediately for harshly scarce resources and shelter. “No lockdown. No entry. Strange.”

  “Maybe SkEye doesn’t care.” Finn shrugged. “They were after Regan and Evelyn, not Rose and Danae.”

  “Too valuable. Someone would want it. If not SkEye, someone else. Library would send someone to recover the machinery, medicine.” Zilch shook their head and cast a baleful look up and down the breezeway. “And if SkEye was here, the area should be locked down.” Their eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong.”

  Finn rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Well… I don’t see anyone around now. And we’re just in and out, right? Badda-bing, badda-boom!”

  “No booms.”

  “Okay! So just badda-bing, then.”

  Zilch didn’t reply. Instead, they pulled their hood down lower, stalked forward and climbed silently into one window like a huge, long-legged black spider in trailing black rags, ignoring the jagged glass that scratched and caught in their grey skin. Finn started to scramble up behind them, but they held up one bony hand, gently steering him back down to the ground. Still perched on the windowsill, they swept their skeletal but iron-strong arm around in the frame ridding it of any more broken glass, before extending their free hand to help Finn through.

  “Thanks, buddy!” Finn clambered up and the rest of the way through, before stopping dead with a little gasp as soon as he saw what looked like an enormous, dead black wolf splayed across the floor. “There he is. I hope Danae can fix him.”

  “I’m sure she can,” Zilch said softly, hooded head slowly tilting to one side very slightly as they gazed at the still form.

  “I hope you’re right.” Finn couldn’t resist petting the motionless fur as he picked up the small gears and cogs, piling them up beside the limp pelt. “This is a pretty big mess. I dunno how anyone could bring this guy back to life.”

  “Life comes back…” their whisper was soft as a breeze through an empty sanctuary. “Easier than anyone knows. But not always the same.”

  Now Finn did look up at them with an expression that few people ever saw, but Zilch did more than most. Deep empathy, assurance and understanding. He opened his mouth to reply—but didn’t get out a single word.

  Nobody looking at Zilch’s otherworldly, towering form ever expected them to move quickly. But before Finn could blink, they’d flown across the room and flung him to the floor, throwing themself on top of him and covering him with their torn black layers and heavy hood like a camouflage cloak. A surveillance helicopter’s thrum suddenly grew much louder, like it hovered right above them. He could almost hear the crackling of radio communication and the pounding of heavy combat boots. Finn held perfectly still, suddenly worried that somehow the men in the body armor would be able to hear the pounding of his heart, and intensely glad that only one of them needed to breathe… but the unnerving roar faded.

  “Too close.” Zilch gingerly climbed off Finn, gentle hands checking his fragile human form for injury. “They’re all around.”

  “Why are they here?” Finn whispered back. Below his anxious voice, they could hear a rumble like far-off thunder. “Why do they even care?”

  “SkEye doesn’t forgive or forget.” Their hands stopped, stayed on Finn’s round shoulders. “Stay here.”

  “Where are you going?” Finn almost squeaked, grabbing at Zilch’s thin arm as they starte
d to move away. “Don’t leave me here! There are guys right outside!”

  “I know. I’m going to see what they want,” their voice was low and steady and as comforting as they could make it. Finn didn’t seem comforted, but they kept going anyway. “If I can, I’ll lead them away.”

  “What? No! Don’t do anything dangerous, Zilch! Let’s just go! Let’s just grab the rest of the stuff and get back in the car and go home—back to the Turret House, I mean, then let’s go home! I just want this to be over!”

  “It will be. Soon. Just give me five minutes.”

  “I don’t like this, Zilch…”

  “Five minutes. Get the dog in the trunk. Then wait for me.” Zilch started for the window. “I’ll be back. Start counting now.”

  “Okay,” Finn nodded, trying to get a handle on his nerves—as he did so, he remembered the rest of his list, and tried to gauge how long it would take to collect them. “Might still have some to do, but I’ll get as much as I can done while you’re gone.”

  Zilch slid back out through the window, silent and smooth as a shadow, and Finn stuffed another handful of gears into a bullet hole torn in the dog’s pelt. A few minutes later he’d gotten all the delicate bits he could find, and the wolf seemed to all be in one piece otherwise. Carefully as he could, he dragged Toto-Dandy by the back legs out the door and to the back of his cab.

  He popped the trunk, and managed to wrestle the dead weight inside, then leaned against his car, panting and sweaty but proud of himself. The sets of armor upstairs, lightweight and much more intact than poor Dandy, weren’t nearly as much of a hassle, even if they took three trips. He did wonder what a nice lady like Danae would be doing with what looked like modified body armor, but at least she didn’t have any guns.

  Four trips. He picked up toothbrushes, pajamas, changes of clothes, trying not to look too closely at anything he shouldn’t, and get done quickly. The street outside was empty and dark. Still no sign of Zilch. It had definitely been more than five minutes, and his heart was starting to pound.