Chameleon (The Ripple Series)

by Cidney Swanson

  Then I felt an icy cold wash through me. “Will?” His name escaped my lips as I clambered to the ancient stairs. It had to be Will! Helga was still shouting. Looking over my shoulder to be sure, I confirmed that Deuxième remained solid. But just before the cavern closed from view, I saw an awful sight. Helga raised a small pistol and aimed it at Deuxième.

  He crumpled and at the same moment, Sir Walter rippled solid. I hesitated on the stairs. Sir Walter, evading Helga, grabbed the shorter man and rippled away with him. I turned back to the stairs, scrambling up the ancient, worn surface. I felt the icy blast again.

  Go to the car! I hurled the words to Will from within my mind, adding a visual image of the same phrase. Go to the car! I couldn’t let Helga get her hands on Will, and I had the advantage of being someone she wanted alive, not dead. Go to the car! Wait for me there!

  Up the cavern stairs I ran, feeling power in my runner’s legs—I was made for this! I burst into daylight and sprang across an ancient courtyard. A few broken paving stones remained scattered upon the uneven ground. Shrubs scratched my jeans as I dashed for a place to screen and calm myself. Walls cut me off from the ground and no rooms remained in which I could hide. The spiral staircase! Just another few feet. The treads on the staircase were deep and worn in the center. As I climbed, some of the steps had crumbled almost away. But suddenly, there I was, at the topmost step.

  I crawled up into what had once been an arrow–slit in the tower. Now it was a gaping window large enough to shelter me from sight; you’d have to climb far within the spiral tower to notice me.

  Our car waited below; I didn’t see Will.

  I hunkered down. Wind whistled past me, in and out of tiny chinks in the ancient stone tower. To one side, all was open air and a fall of several stories. I grabbed a solid–looking bit of wall on the precipice and held tight, trying to quiet my mind, hoping I wouldn’t be followed, wouldn’t be found. Shifting one foot for balance, I dislodged a rock. I cringed as it rolled lazily off the tower, bouncing noisily onto the graveled road beside our car.

  Great.

  “Come down!” Helga’s voice, strong and authoritative, called to me from below.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Her request was ridiculous. And laughing made me feel braver. Seriously? She thinks I’d march down to her? But then I stopped laughing, because there wasn’t anything funny about being trapped at the top of a tower.

  What was I thinking?

  I looked through the broken window. Was there another way down? I had reasonable skills on the gym rock wall; could I climb down the outside of this tower?

  Helga spoke again. “Come down to me and perhaps your father and step–mother will yet live in their drowsy little town. What is it called? Ah, yes. Las Abuelitas.”

  My heart froze. She knows who I am. And how to hurt me.

  “Or we can do things more … painfully,” she continued. “There are many ways to extend the life of the dying. I have made it something of a hobby of mine to learn what human flesh can endure.”

  I shrank at her words. “You’re evil!” I whispered. Which only made me sound like a child. Something inside me stirred, shifted, and I felt a growing need to command her respect. If she was going to hunt me down like prey, I wouldn’t be the mouse this time. I would be a lioness. Agile. Stealthy. Deadly.

  She crept towards the base of the tower, speaking casually of the pains she would inflict upon Sylvia while my father watched.

  But she wasn’t the only one who could use words as weapons.

  “Helmann won’t like that,” I called, my voice strong and clear.

  “How dare you name my father!” she cried.

  My barb stings, does it? I felt emboldened.

  “He’s already pissed at you,” I added. “He kicked you out of Geneses, didn’t he?”

  “Silence, child!”

  “Does he know about your little genetic experiment? Your son?”

  Helga growled her hatred of me. Now I could hear her climbing the staircase. I looked around for something to throw. I would not go down without a fight this time. Beneath my right foot, a rock shifted. Angling my foot back and forth, I loosened the stone ‘til I thought I could ease it free. As I grasped it, the rock dropped heavily on one of my left fingers. I inhaled sharply at the pain.

  Breathing through the hurt, I hoisted the weapon with my uninjured hand. When I looked up to see how far Helga had come, she’d vanished. Crap! I thought. She’d rippled and could reappear anywhere. No, the cool logic flowing through me said. She couldn’t come solid on either side of me—no room—nor could she ripple behind me. That meant she could only come solid in front of or below me. For a split second, I wondered if I might be able to ripple now that I’d tamed my fear. But no. I couldn’t simultaneously prepare to bash Helga with a rock and relax into peaceful nothingness. I shifted my weight to gain additional stability. A few rocks at my feet tipped and settled. This whole place is crumbling to pieces!

  Helga materialized not ten feet below me, holding a gun which she pointed at me.

  “I’m no use to you dead,” I said, hefting the stone in my right hand.

  “Nor can you run away if I blow your kneecap off,” she retorted.

  “Do that and I’ll lose my balance,” I pointed out. “The drop will kill me.”

  She frowned; she’d already figured this out. The gun was a bluff.

  I looked into the ice–blue eyes of the woman who had tormented poor Deuxième—who had probably left him for dead.

  “If you come any closer, I’ll jump,” I said, resolve hardening as I spoke.

  “Very well,” she said, placing the revolver into a pocket. “So here is what will happen. Should you jump, I will vanish and travel to your charming home town.”

  I felt cold prickles in my stomach.

  She climbed the stairs towards my nest, slowly, someone who knew she had no need to hurry.

  “I’ll count backwards from ten, shall I? And you decide what you would prefer. You can come with me voluntarily, or you can jump.” She began her count. “Ten. Nine.” She took another two steps closer to me. “Eight. Seven. You might just survive that fall, you know. Horribly maimed, of course.”

  I looked away from her terrible glacial eyes, mesmerizing as oncoming headlights.

  “Six. Five. Certainly you’d be too injured to follow me to Las Abuelitas.” She smiled and continued her inexorable progress. “Four. Three. But I don’t think you’d enjoy watching what I have in mind.” She hissed the last words.

  I lifted the stone. My last defense.

  Her mouth curved up on one side. “Really, child.” Another step towards me.

  My legs shook beneath me.

  “Two… and one.” She stood before me, only a few stairs between us. “What is it to be?”

  I threw the stone, howling in anger at all she’d done, all she planned.

  Helga rippled. The stone bounded harmlessly down the stairway. But I’d unbalanced myself as I threw the rock, and I lurched forward. As I fell, Helga’s invisible form washed through me: cold, dark and evil. Tumbling head–over heels, I lodged hard against the curved wall of the staircase, the wind knocked out of me. Struggling to draw breath, I saw Helga ripple solid where I’d been a second before. She grabbed at the stone wall and kept herself from falling backwards. Roaring in anger, she turned, looking over her shoulder at me, hatred pouring from her eyes.

  But as she turned, the gaping sill to which she clung gave way. Two, then six, then a dozen stones plummeted into the open air.

  And so did Helga.

  Wheezing, I crawled to the ragged new edge of the tower. Helga must have rippled as she fell; she was nowhere to be seen.

  But as I searched the ground for her, I saw Sir Walter and Will rippling solid beside the car. Less than a second later, the air beside the old Citroën shimmered again. This time it was Helga. But she didn’t pay close enough attention to her surroundings. Her left hand, thrown out behind her, materialized
within the back of the car, at the gas–flap. There was a sound like several BB guns firing. Then I heard Helga yelping as she withdrew the bloodied hand that had solidified inside the car, displacing bits of metal. That explained the popping sounds.

  Gas dripped lazily down the side of the Citroën as the three upon the ground below me regarded one another.

  Glancing at her injured hand for only a second, Helga tucked it under her right arm. Then she aimed her gun at Sir Walter and fired. He rippled away and her bullet lodged in the walls of the ruin. The old gentleman came solid behind her and tried to grab her, but she rippled. He twisted round. Noticing me atop the tower, Sir Walter shouted to Will.

  “Get Sam! Ripple with her!”

  Will followed Sir Walter’s gaze and met my eye. Just as the air around Will began to waver, Helga came solid and fired at him.

  She missed, I thought. She can’t have hit him, dear God, please!

  I heard a small grunt from the stairs below me. Turning, I saw Will!

  “You’re alright,” I said, taking the stairs two at a time to reach him, maybe ten steps below me.

  Will grinned as he climbed the stairs towards me. But his hoodie, pale–gray, discolored as a blossom of red appeared below his left shoulder. Will seemed to stumble, and then his eyes rolled up, and he collapsed upon the ancient stairs.

  “No,” I cried, jumping down the remaining treads.

  The fall had jolted him; he was conscious again when I reached him.

  “Hey.” He sounded winded, like he’d just run a hard race. “I don’t feel so … just give me a minute.”

  “Take your time,” I said, staring in horror at the patch of red, spreading slowly. I needed gauze; I needed bandages.

  “Just another quick sec,” said Will. “I’ll grab you and we’ll ripple together.”

  I thought of what Sir Walter had told us about times when rippling didn’t work. Will’s eyes fluttered; he remained conscious, but only just. I needed sal volatile—smelling salts!

  I remembered the glove box tumbling open. “First aid kit!” I said aloud.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” mumbled Will, shifting to face me. As he turned, he saw the blood–red stain. “Oh,” he sighed. “That explains a lot.”

  Below, Helga and Sir Walter traded insults like children at a playground. It seemed neither could defeat the other. But she had to escape him to get to me. Unfortunately, I knew that if she had to battle Sir Walter all day, she would.

  A crazy idea came to me as I looked at Will, his eyelids drooping, his lips slightly parted, furrows deepening between his brows. Crazy, but genius. Something inside me wrenched open, flooding me with desperate courage. I was getting that first aid kit and getting us both out of here.

  Crazy, said a voice inside as I brought my face over his ‘til I could feel the flutter of breath as he exhaled. Crazy, repeated the voice. Will smelled like blood and French detergent and pine needles. Crazy. I brought my mouth to his.

  The sound of the two dueling below receded. I heard only a low sigh that came from inside one of us: I wasn’t sure who. And Will’s mouth tasted like the whisper of willows through my mind, and sunshine, and coming home. I thought he was kissing me back, and then I was sure of it.

  His lips on mine felt like the slow embrace of rippling through glass.

  My hands on his face trembled.

  Then they didn’t.

  I’d rippled.

  Without a backward glance at the boy I loved, I shot up the stairs and hovered over the gap in the tower. Then, I set my invisible foot upon the ledge and stepped out into thin air.

  Only it wasn’t. The air felt thick as maple syrup and moving through it was a lot like swimming, like Sir Walter had said.

  While I toppled earth–ward, Sir Walter and Helga battled on, rippling and solidifying in a bizarre dance.

  “She’s gone by now,” said Sir Walter. “You’ve lost, cousin Helga.”

  Helga’s cold eyes blazed as she came solid, slamming her foot within the graveled road so that pebbles exploded in an arc towards Sir Walter, like spray from a water–skier. Rippling, he dodged, although the look on his face showed the move had surprised him.

  I slid invisibly towards the far side of the car. Hunching low at the front passenger door, I came solid. Through the window, I could see the first aid kit spilled open below the seat. Sure enough, a small vial of sal volatile nestled between a thermometer and package of gauze. I eased the car door open as silently as possible. Helga was now shouting in German at Sir Walter, who had disappeared for longer than usual. Then Helga fell silent, and all I heard was her breath, fast and angry, and the whisper of wind through the shrubs. I reached for the first aid kit, stopping myself from shutting the car door, which Helga would have heard. Leaving it ajar, I crept backwards, towards a tall patch of scrubby brush. With the warmth of Will’s lips still upon my own, I knew rippling would come easily.

  I reached the brush and eased myself behind. I’d made it!

  Just before I closed my eyes to calm and ripple, a movement beside the car caught my eye. Straining my head around the shrub, I watched, horrified, as the car door began, slowly and unstoppably, to fall shut on its own.

  No, no, no! I thought. Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited, hoping against hope that Helga would start shouting again and miss the sound. She didn’t. The door slammed noisily shut. No one could have missed that.

  Helga spun and fired at the source of the noise, the bullet’s impact creating sparks and sudden flame. Some idiotic California–bred impulse to warn people about fire made me twitch from behind the brush that hid me.

  Helga saw me, eyes ablaze with her lust to possess me. But I felt an inferno in my own belly. Today, I was the lioness. I had someone to protect, and Helga was not going to get in my way. I felt my lips pull back as she fired again, missing me. Yes, I was actually baring my teeth as I prepared to ripple away.

  What happened next seemed impossible.

  Out of nowhere, there came a thunderous noise like a cannon blast, and the Citroën, and Helga Gottlieb with it, exploded into an yellow ball of heat. The blast knocked me backwards, and I lay staring stupidly at a sky the color of a robin’s egg.

  In the movies, explosions happen in slow motion. This felt like it happened in fast–forward. One moment Helga stared into my eyes, craving victory. The next moment, she was gone, without even the chance to ripple, and I lay on my back without any clear memory of the moment I’d hit the ground.

  I tipped my head in the direction of the waves of hot air rolling toward me. A mistake. The sky spun in dizzy circles, and I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing in the smoldering odor of gasoline and things that weren’t meant to burn. I lay there a moment, aware that there was something important that I needed to do.

  “Will!” His name caught in my throat.

  Chapter Twenty–Five

  REST IN PEACE

  I sat up, my head still spinning, and took several slow, deep breaths holding my shirt over my nose and mouth. I had to get to Will.

  Sir Walter rippled solid beside me upon the ground.

  “Merci, Seigneur,” he whispered. Thank God. To me he said, “Mon Dieu, but you frightened me!”

  “Here,” I said, handing him the first–aid kit. “Will’s been shot. He’s faint and he can’t ripple. I thought maybe—”

  Sir Walter cut me off. “Sal volatile! Of course.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment,” I said. “Just go—make sure Will’s okay.”

  Sir Walter was gone.

  I felt steadier with each moment. Ignoring the fire, I calmed myself and felt my body slipping into nothingness. The dizziness passed immediately, and I dashed to the tower, scrambled up the side and through the tiny window. Sir Walter had already removed Will’s shirt and was unwinding a measure of gauze while pressing a pad to the gunshot wound.

  I came solid beside the two.

  “Go to Deuxième,” said Sir Walter, without looking up.

&n
bsp; “Will!” I tried to speak, but my voice caught, the words jumbling, tangling.

  “Go to Deuxième!” said Sir Walter as he began the bandaging. “Quickly!”

  “What?” I asked, grasping Will’s lifeless hand in mine.

  “Go! Deuxième trusts you. Leave Will to my care.”

  “You’re—I’m not—No!” I said. “I can’t leave Will like this.”

  Will’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Samantha, Deuxième is dying!” said Sir Walter.

  “What about Will?”

  Sir Walter turned from Will and looked at me, his face grave. “Will’s alive. Deuxième may not be; Go, child. None of us deserves to die alone.”

  My heart felt as if Sir Walter had plunged an icy dagger into its center, but I stood.

  “Hurry!” he called. “Seek the scent of our earlier trail.”

  Sir Walter thought I’d have to tunnel through to the cavern.

  “There’s a faster way,” I called as I crossed the courtyard heading for the stairs. And yet, as I raced to re–enter the cavern of the well, I found that I could smell a whisper of Will’s warm pine–y scent and Sir Walter’s cologne. The ghostly waftings led me as I took the stairs below ground.

  Deuxième lay beside the pool. His face, sickly, turned to the water.

  “Si beau,” he whispered. So beautiful.

  “I’m here, Deuxième,” I said, sinking to his side.

  “It is well,” he said, a tiny smile upon his white lips.

  His face appeared gray to me now.

  “How cold Deuxième feels,” he said.

  I wrenched off my jacket, thick and warm. “Here,” I said. “This will help.”

  “Ah, Jane Smith.” He said my name in a sigh. “Deuxième is tired. So tired.”

  “Rest, my friend,” I whispered to him. As I tried to tuck my jacket under his body, I gasped at the amount of blood already soaked into his garments.

  “Deuxième would like to be free, as Jane said he is not,” whispered the dying man.