I just never expected him to send someone I trusted. And I never expected one of my own men to actually betray me. Least of all Chimera.”
Evelyn and Regan both stared at one another, and almost missed the next words.
“Why did he send Chimera? Was it to make my death easier? Or more painful?
But that doesn’t matter anymore. That night was a wake-up call. I saw the blood on my hands, what I’d done to this city—and to you. Enough waiting in the wings! Time for me to bring my sins to light. Center stage. And stop holding onto these secrets! My soul is… tired. All of me is so tired. Sometimes the heaviest words are the ones don’t say.
And I need to ask forgiveness.
I… I lost my chance to ask Hans’s forgiveness. I don’t even know where he is.
But I can ask you. Evelyn, my most brilliant songbird, my brightest star, my sweet little strawberry… please forgive me. Promise me you’ll learn from my mistakes. Stand by your friends, the ones you trust and the ones you love. Ten years ago, you took a stand. I wish I was brave enough to step out of the shadows, and do the same. I wish I could become someone new and leave everything I’ve done behind.
It’s too late for me. But it’s not for you, Evelyn Calliope. I believe you can do anything. I believe you can do the impossible. Like save us. If there’s anyone brave enough, or strong enough, or good enough to carry us through the fire and out the other side without a burn, if anyone can do what I could only dream about… it’s you.
And if that sounds hard, my dear, don’t forget… it’s all just a show. And the show must go on. I…”
There was a crackling pause. Then, a deep, booming laugh rang through the room.
“I can breathe again. I know who I am again. My name is Garrett Cole, and I am better than my worst mistakes. The sky is open. My heart is free and clear. I know what I have to do.
Don’t look for me, my dear. I’m a ghost. But at last, I am at peace.
Thank you, Evelyn. And good night.”
The music stopped.
Evelyn wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked up at Regan. They stared at each other for a few long moments, speechless. A soft noise broke the oppressive quiet and they whirled around to see Jenny Strings standing in the doorway, hanging from one edge.
“I remember now,” she said in her soft voice. “I saw it. Once upon a time…” she began as she let go of the door frame. Jenny swayed into the room, gently raising her hands to start the show again. This time the ballerina doll stayed still, spying on the doll in the tuxedo tails and top hat.
The little tuxedo doll paced, then stopped. He stood very still for a long time.
Until, finally, he pantomimed taking off his tie and climbing up onto something. He looped the shiny black tie around something above him, then tied it around his neck. He took a step—and a sharp drop. The little doll jerked and twitched at the end of the tie, invisible as the strings connecting him to Jenny’s fingertips. Finally his spasms slowed… and he was very, very still.
Jenny brought her hands together, and the ballerina and dapper doll joined hands and bowed for their audience, while a sleepy smile spread across Jenny’s face. “The end.”
“So that’s it?” Evelyn asked quietly, tears in her eyes.
Jenny hesitated, and opened her mouth, hands trembling. For a moment it looked as if she very badly wanted to say something… but then she closed it again, and nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Evelyn sighed, and straightened up, pressing a kink out of her back from leaning over to watch the puppets. “Thanks, Jenny.” She looked up at Regan, and gave a sad shrug. “At least we’re starting to get answers.”
“Yeah. Now, let’s get out of here.”
“Wait.” Evelyn turned to Jenny and her marionette friends. “Jenny, sweetie…you really shouldn’t be here all by yourself.” It wasn’t safe for anyone, living in an abandoned theatre, where a man just died. Particularly not anyone as vulnerable as Jenny.
“The Emerald Bar is my home,” Jenny said quickly. “And now it’s quiet. There are no bad people around. Nobody bothers me now.”
“But they might come back,” Evelyn said slowly. “Nobody else is here now with you? None of our friends?”
“This is my home.” Jenny’s eyes were starting to clear, and she stood straighter. “I’m safe here.”
“Honey, how long has it been since your last shot?”
“Not since he died… too long. I’m starting to hurt. I don’t like it, Evelyn. I start to shake and hurt and I can’t—I can’t make them dance!” Her breath caught. “But mostly it hurts!”
“You’re in withdrawal, Jenny, you need help.”
“I can take care of myself,” she insisted, but her voice was tight and pained. “It’s just a little hard sometimes. I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “Listen, Evelyn. I know I’m… not right. But I don’t want to go to a strange house. I can handle the pain. I can.”
Evelyn shut her eyes for a moment. “It sounds like you’re in stage three right now. Another few days without Chrysedrine and you could die. We have to get you off it slowly. Please, come with us. We can help you, if you come with us.”
“No.” Jenny shook her head, stepping away. “I know what everyone thinks of me. I know what they say, they’re scared, but I’m not dangerous! I don’t hurt anyone! Even when they try to hurt me!”
“I know you’re not, honey, we don’t think that. And we’d never send you to—”
“I know what goes on in centers. People go in there and they never come out. Eye in the Sky rounds up everyone—and they want to put me in there, and then I’ll never come out either!” Hot tears spilled from her eyes. “I just want to stay home. Please don’t make me go.”
“No. Never.” Evelyn promised. “Not a detention center. The library. It has people who know how to help you, and keep you safe and sound.”
“The…” Jenny blinked and sniffed, but didn’t take another step away.
“That’s right. If there’s nobody left here, that’s where they’ll be, and they’ll help you. You can stay there, you won’t be alone anymore.”
“Friends?”
“Yes. I know them, they’re very good people.
“Find Kari, okay? She’s still on the radio, which means she’s okay. So she’ll be at the library. She’ll help you.” Evelyn waited for a moment, looking into Jenny’s eyes. “Do you hear me?”
“Kari…” Jenny nodded slowly. “Yes. She’s good. I’ll find her. She’s everywhere, if you listen. Now watch, watch me, Evelyn!” And she sailed away across the stage, taking flight again. As they watched, she danced with her dolls in the pale spotlight—then Jenny spun into the deepest shadows backstage and disappeared.
“You know what this means, right?” Parole’s ever-present smoke curled and roiled around them, but to Regan it was all blue skies and sunshine. Everything was fresh and open now, everything was beautiful.
“I heard.” Evelyn did not share his enthusiasm. She stared straight ahead, weighed down by mental and emotional exhaustion.
“It means,” Regan continued, still smiling. Once, it felt like his face was unused to it; now he couldn’t stop. “That I’m not a murderer! I mean—” he broke off, smile fading a little as he turned to look at Evelyn. “I’m sorry he’s gone. I really am.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“But I’m just so—I mean, this is great. I can breathe.” Regan laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. It felt wonderful. “It’s like he said in the recording—the sky is open! Hans sent me to kill Garrett, but I didn’t! I said no! He wanted me to be a murderer, but I’m not! I’m not!” If he said it enough times, it might sink in. It was too good to be true, but it was.
“Yeah,” Evelyn said again, looking up for the first time. She shook her head, trying to snap out of it. “I’m really relieved too, Regan. Seriously. I’m jazzed that you’re innocent. I’m just… this just isn’t a surprise. I hoped this w
as the case the whole time, and it is, so… good.”
Regan frowned. “So you thought it was suicide all the time?”
“I suspected it. Garrett… had challenges. The entire time I knew him. This was just the last straw.”
“He thought Hans was sending me after him.” Regan swallowed, looked at the ground. “He wanted to go before I got to him.”
“That’s not what he said. You can’t blame yourself for this. Nobody’s to blame. Garrett was troubled and wracked with guilt. He took his own life after years of struggling with it.”
Regan didn’t answer, and they continued in a contemplative silence for a few seconds.
“He did say something that didn’t make sense, though,” Evelyn said thoughtfully. “At the very end. He said ‘don’t look for me.’ Why would I look for him, if he was dead?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he just didn’t want you to torture yourself about it. Jenny said… I mean, she acted out, what he, uh. Yeah.”
“Yeah. I’m probably just…” Evelyn sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Whatever he did, I pushed him to it. I was there to kill him. So he did it first, before I could get to him.” He looked away. “I thought I wanted to know who I was. I don’t think I like… Chimera very much.”
“Whoever you were before… I don’t think that’s who you are anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said before. How losing your memory gave you a second chance.”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Listen. You might have been sent to kill Garrett, but you didn’t. The man who was going to kill him—that’s not you anymore. You got another life. You remade yourself, better this time—something I know a thing or two about. The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve been proving that. We couldn’t have saved Finn without you, and when Rose got shot, it was you who got her out safe.”
Regan missed a step and almost tripped. Rose.
But Evelyn was still speaking, talking with her hands, coming out of her sad reverie and back to her normal energy level. “You could have been killed any number of times doing all of that, but you did it anyway, because it was the right thing to do.”
“I… yeah.” Regan gave her a hopeful look. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
“I am.” Evelyn turned to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. I–I’m devastated that Garrett’s gone. And I will be even more once I take the time to feel it—but hearing the things he said? He died… almost happy. Feeling forgiven, remembering who he was. I know that feeling—it’s taken me a long time to feel it. And he’s right, you’re right, the sky is open! We’re going to get past this, Regan. I know everything’s a mess right now, but oh, God, I can see it, I don’t know how, but everything is going to be okay, I just know it. We’re all going to be okay!”
Regan nodded, not looking at her. “Listen, Ev. I got something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I’m… not the good person you think I am.”
“What do you mean?” Evelyn watched him carefully. The street was empty and open; aside from the ubiquitous helicopters overhead, they were alone. For some reason she was so strongly reminded of the night they met outside the Emerald Bar, she wondered if she would look over and see Celeste’s mysterious silhouette standing beneath a streetlight.
Regan stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open—then broke away. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“It’s all right, you can tell me,” she said quietly. “I’ll listen, I promise.”
“I just—I’ve done things, Ev. Bad things, for all the wrong reasons, and you should know about them before you trust me.”
“Are you starting to remember more?”
“No.” He gave a hollow laugh. “No, this is new. Since you’ve known me.”
Evelyn took a deep breath. “Listen to me. Good people do bad things. And bad people do good things, and sometimes good and bad are just words, and don’t mean a thing.”
He shook his head, slow at first, then faster. “Then what do you do? If nothing means anything?”
“You figure out who you are, for yourself. You find your identity. What means you. Not what you did, who you are. That means everything. You mean everything.”
“Ev…” He stopped. And he was smiling too, he couldn’t help it. It felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders, a cold, hard layer of steel had come off his chest, and for the first time he let himself breathe. “Before, when I kept saying I wasn’t afraid? That was bullshit.”
“Oh, honey, I know it was.”
“But now? I think it might be actually true. Or getting there.”
“Good. Remember that feeling.” Evelyn smiled, the only thing on the street he could see. “Keep it in sight while you learn to love yourself.”
“That one might take a while,” he said quietly.
“That’s okay. It’s worth the wait.” She stepped closer, and a warm hand slipped into his. “Now what were you going to tell me?”
“I… it’s that…”
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Believe me.”
Regan believed in her. Like Garrett Cole had said in his last words, the sky was open. The next breath he took came more easily than any he could ever remember. “I saw who shot Rose. The night we went to rescue Finn.”
“You did?” Her breath caught in her throat. “Who—”
“It was my fault,” he said, and she barely caught the regret in his eyes before he shut them and turned away.
“Regan,” she said, moving to stand in front of him again, heart starting to pound. “What are you talking about?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared straight ahead, looking right past her. But he didn’t look angry. His face held no expression at all. As if some switch had flipped, he was rigid like someone in a comatose fugue. Now he seemed to hang in the air like one of Jenny’s marionettes, manipulated by invisible strings.
“Regan?” She stepped back toward him, a slow cold fear spreading through her as she looked at him and realized exactly how wrong everything about his body had gone. His eyes stared, stretched open, yellow sclera all around the irises. He held perfectly still, as if paralyzed, except for the frill of skin on his neck, flared and shivering in distress.
“Get out of him, Hans!”
It wasn’t Evelyn who spoke. She felt a sudden wind as someone sped past her, sweeping up to Regan and catching him up in a rush of long arms and flowing black.
Zilch’s hood was warm and soft. That was what nobody ever expected. What not many people besides Regan ever knew or found out. He felt it now. He felt their hand on his chest, long fingers slipping beneath his frill and resting on his collarbone, a reminder to breathe, slow, deep, let the air fill his lungs; there was enough. He felt their hand on his back, a reminder that he was supported, safe, protected, not alone. Never alone. He heard their voice in his ear. Speaking his name. A very old name.
He remembered it.
He remembered them.
Zilch’s eyes widened as a warm hand closed around their wrist. They looked down in surprise to see scales, gleaming dully iridescent under the dim light of Parole’s smoky sky and bright, crackling barrier arcing far above. They looked up then, into gleaming yellow eyes with vertical pupils. No fear. The quick flash of a smile, a gasp of silent laughter like the pause before the punchline of a very old, secret, inside joke. Their eyes just had time to widen, their mouth to open, before there was another hand on the back of their neck.
Regan pulled Zilch down into a kiss that made their head spin, wiry arms wrapping around them and holding them closer than skin against bone. For a fraction of a second, they were the one paralyzed. Then they were holding him too, eyes closing, one hand stroking the side of his face and pointed ear, the other arm never letting him go. Wherever their heart was, it leapt.
When Regan finally drew back enoug
h to catch his breath—something Zilch reminded themself that yes, other people had to do much more than they did, no matter how inconvenient—it was his hand that stayed pressed against palm down across their hollow chest.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “So much.”
“You didn’t know,” they stared into his face, still in awe. Of the moment, of the reunion, of the fact that he’d ever been theirs to lose and be reunited with, of so many things. “How could…”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I missed you anyway.”
Evelyn stared. Whatever she’d expected when she came down to the Emerald Bar tonight, it hadn’t been this. For several seconds, she wondered how to proceed—wondered several things, in fact, but chief among them how exactly to address, or if she even should, or even, in fact if she should be looking in this direction—
“Evelyn.” There was no need. Regan was stepping, reluctantly, away and turning to face her. He was shaking his head, hands spread and open, face lit up with the biggest smile she’d ever seen him wear. It wasn’t completely different from any expression he’d worn, but she hadn’t seen anything like it often. She thought about the times he’d been the most comfortable, savvy, even fearless. Dragon. This was that Regan. This might have been… whatever Zilch had called him. This might be Chimera. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t even start. And neither does ‘sorry.’”
“For… for what?” She gave a nervous laugh. Wasn’t sure why she should be, but seeing someone transform completely and get their life back before your eyes tended do that. “I’m—happy for you! You’re remembering things now?”
“Yes!” He nodded, the single most sure, confident nod she’d ever seen. Then the smile slipped from his face, and his eyes slipped away from hers. His gaze turned questioning, and oddly, he seemed to direct it to someone over her shoulder. She turned to look, but there was nobody there. Confused, she turned back to face him. When she saw him again, he wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead, his expression was a rare and powerful mix of determination borne of absolute clarity. “I have to go.”
Chameleon Moon Page 27
