4. Chapter 4 - Damien
Being a chameleon shifter is the absolute shit!
My powers are the reason Not a Vampire hit it big.
I’m the reason the band and I are on the road more than a worn-out tire.
Every gig, I transform into some lucky bastards from the crowd, making the performance entirely unique.
And our fans show up again and again, hoping they’ll get a chance to see themselves on stage, belting out the lyrics with their idols.
It’s our signature move, something no one else could ever pull off, and it’s what makes our shows legendary!
I’m such a lucky fuck. Not a Vampire is a powerhouse, our songs pure perfection. Every album we drop shatters every fucking expectation. But now, I have to stay away and hope that the time it takes to fix this mess doesn’t destroy us.
It’s the only way to keep them safe, I remind myself and nearly fly into a tree.
Shit!
But in my defense, I don’t spend a lot of time in bird form. Not since the parrot shifter incident where I knocked a microphone clear off the stage. My flying skills need work, sure, but they’re also the reason Minnie hasn’t spotted me.
How the chameleon did she recognize me when I shifted into that burned-out office worker from Scarborough? I barely had a chance to step into the cafe before she called me out.
What gave me away? Is it the way I talk? The way I walk? The way I stand?
Doesn’t matter. She’ll never know it’s me while I’m a bird.
My powers are the fucking shit! And way better than the hoodies and sunglasses my bandmates use to go incognito.
I fly a little closer, and Minnie stops short. She spins around and checks the street. Like she can sense me. The mouse on her shoulder does the same, searching the street.
Would she bother using some sort of spell to warn her if I’m around? Or did she forget about me the same way she did when we were kids?
Who the fuck cares?
I flap my wings, gaining height. A lone car passes by, and Minnie jumps. Skittish much?
Maybe she can’t sense me. Maybe she’s just paranoid.
I wait until she starts walking again and fly after her. Pigeon shifter vision is straight-up fire, and I watch her strut down below in that tiny curve-hugging piece of fabric she calls a dress. I get an eyeful of generous cleavage. Followed by a bird-boner.
What the chameleon?
And why doesn’t the girl just put on a sweater? It’s dark out, for chameleon’s sake. Safe, since she’s in Silver Springs. But freezing as fuck, and she’s carting around a kid wearing a t-shirt.
She has a kid. Probably with some dude named Alexander.
Where the hell is the bastard who got her pregnant? And why did she change her name to his?
A wave of jealousy courses through me, and I shove it aside. Maybe she’s just babysitting someone’s kid. I’ve got no reason to think he’s hers. And even if he is, I don’t care who she fucks, or who knocks her up, as long as I marry her.
But then why is there a burning sensation in my chest? Probably just a bird thing.
I flap my wings and keep my distance as Minnie’s wagon rattles along Main Street. She pops inside Jewels Cafe, and I feel a wave of relief. Bet she’s added babysitting to her resume, and she’s dropping the kid off.
I spot a nice large branch nearby, aim for it, miss by a foot, and slam face-first into the trunk.
Oof!
Luckily, I’m mostly recovered by the time Minnie comes back out without the wagon or mouse, and with a sleeping child in her arms.
Fucking hell.
When I marry her—which I will, come hell or high water—would I gain a bonus son?
A strange longing settles in my gut, followed by the mental image of myself, Minnie, and the little boy playing in a treehouse just like the one she and I used to spend all our time in when we were kids.
So fucking stupid.
We’re signing a marriage contract, nothing more. I’ll make sure the kid’s taken care of—not that she needs my help, considering she’s got the entire Montgomery fortune—but there’s no way in hell I’m sticking around.
Not after the way she abandoned me when we were kids.
I’ll never trust her again.
She rounds the corner, and I push off the tree branch and take flight. I flap my wings and follow, but when I round the corner, there’s no sign of her or the kid. It’s like they just up and vanished.
“I’m thirsty,” a little voice says.
It’s followed by a whispered shush.
But there’s no one on the street below.
What the chameleon?
I fly higher, so I can get a bird’s-eye-view—no pun intended. But somehow, Minnie and the kid disappeared into thin air.
I double-back toward Jewels Cafe. Maybe I can just ask for her address? Either that, or I go back to my hotel in Scarborough, wait until morning, and try again.
But the clock is ticking, and I don’t have much time.
I’m almost at the cafe when I hear a lock click behind me. I spin around mid-flight, lose control, and nearly barrel down into the sidewalk. Luckily, I catch myself in time to see the door to a boarded up building across the street fly open.
There’s no one there. Must be the wind—or a squatter. I look away, then I hear a little kid yell, “Ouchy.”
“Sorry,” a whisper that sounds a lot like Minnie follows, and then the door to the boarded up building slams shut. On its own.
Something isn’t right here.
I fly up to the building, and land in front of the door. I shift briefly—into a Yeti, which is handy when you’re breaking into a sketchy-looking building in the middle of the night.
I tug on the door, but it won’t budge. Locked.
What are you up to, Minerva Montgomery? Minnie Alexander? Whoever the chameleon you are.
I transform back into the pigeon shifter, fly over the building, and check the other side. There’s a narrow alley, with a few empty garbage and recycling bins, but not much else.
I fly back out front. The building doesn’t have a sign, but there are a few windows upstairs. The curtains are drawn, but if I sit on the ledge, maybe I’ll overhear enough to know what’s going on.
I aim for one, miss, and slam face-first into the glass.
“Minnie? What’s that sound?” the little kid’s voice echoes from inside.
As I regain my balance on the narrow ledge, all I can think is that Minnie is just like her mother, who always insisted on being called Maude instead of Mom.
But I’ve known for a while that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree…
Suddenly, the curtain flies open and I come face-to-face with Minnie. Which startles the chameleon out of me. And being a chameleon, I don’t do what any sane bird would, and take flight. No. I jump back, fall off the ledge, and tumble down toward the sidewalk below.
Shift into a cat, I shout at myself. That way I can land on my feet. Flap your wings, and take off before you slam into the ground.
If I nail this, it’s going to look so damn impressive. I’ll have another solid act to throw down on stage.
But I don’t.
Instead, my self-respect takes a nose-dive right along with my body, and I slam into the hard ground like a goddamn brick.
My wings ache. My side aches. My head aches.
I’m still marveling at the fact that I’m alive when the door to the boarded up building crashes open and Minnie runs out, her son perched on her hip.
“Is birdie okay?” the kid asks.
No, I’m not fucking okay, I think, shutting my eyes.
And then, Minnie is scooping me up with what I’m coming to recognize as her signature yawn. “He’ll be okay,” she says, though her tone makes it clear she doesn’t care one way or the other.
But then why doesn’t she leave me? Again. Like she did all those years ago.
She carries me inside the boarded-up building.
It’s dark, and I make out some empty shelves, some display cases, and a set of stairs.
Minnie heads upstairs to a bedroom. There’s a lamp in the middle of the room, but I’m pretty sure it’s powered by magic, not electricity.
It resembles a crystal ball, and the light it emits isn’t bright, but somehow seems to reach every corner of the room.
There’s a queen size bed, covered by a beige quilt that has seen better days, and a little bed that must belong to the kid.
The bookshelf is filled with granola bars and apple sauce packets, and only the lowest shelf holding actual books—mostly children’s books, with library stickers along the spines.
Minnie sets her son down on the big bed, and places me next to him.
“Birdie,” he squeals, reaching for me.
His hands look huge from my vantage point—practically the size of my entire body—and my brain screams, terrifying giant kid!
I try to get away, but I’m all bruised up and useless in bird form. I end up flopping onto my side and making some distressed bird sounds that make the boy burst out laughing.
“Natty, don’t touch him. He’s hurt,” Minnie says. She sounds like she doesn’t give a fuck.
“Birdie.” Natty dives toward me again.
She does nothing to stop him.
I know I can’t shift back. If I do, Minnie will freak the fuck out. But I’m not sure I’ll survive my run-in with the giant kid monster in this form.
To hell with it, I think.
And then I shift.