Chameleon (Supernaturals)

  Becky couldn’t hold her pout. The twitch of her lips gave away her amusement. She knew she was busted so she said, “If I do start dating again, you aren’t allowed to scare off anyone unless I give you permission first.”

  I grinned. “No promises.”

  Becky gave me a dry look but she finally cracked a smile. I was happy to see it. It was proof that she really was ready. “I’ve got your back,” I said. “You’re not in this alone. And I’m telling you, you should start by asking out Mr. Adorkable over there. He looks like the kind of guy that would hero worship his hot cheerleader girlfriend. You know, geeky but cute? He’d probably treat you like a princess, and, come on, with dimples like those, how could you refuse?”

  We reached the edge of campus and headed toward the main intersection separating the school from the football stadium. Becky squinted back at the boy across the quad and asked, “Dimples? How can you possibly see that?”

  Oops. I’m usually so cautious about not spilling the beans about my abilities, but ever since Ryan found out about them I’ve spent a lot more time being myself. It’s making me careless.

  I’m a little worried about rooming with Becky. My parents suggested I get a single room, but Becky needed me and I couldn’t bail on her. I’m just going to have to be more careful. Or tell her. Honestly, that’s a possibility I’ve been thinking a lot about.

  It’s been drilled into me since the day I realized I was different that rule number one is: DO NOT TELL PEOPLE ABOUT YOUR SUPERPOWERS. Not just from my parents. Watch any superhero movie. Read any comic book. Secret keeping is superhero safety 101.

  But Ryan knows about me and that’s turned out okay. Well, except for that one time where someone almost killed him in order to get to me. But come on. How often can super villains really plague your life?

  Anyway, I might be considering telling Becky the truth, but right now, on the way to her first game as a college cheerleader, would not be the time to drop that kind of bomb on her, so instead of explaining my excellent eyesight I gave her a dismissive shrug.

  “Maybe the dimples were more noticeable when he was laughing. So adorable though. Look, he’s still watching us. Let’s go say hi. We can just talk to him. Take baby steps. You don’t have to ask him out unless you feel comfortable, and even then we can both invite him to some kind of group thing. You know, the whole he’d-be-there-and-you’d-be-there-but-it-wouldn’t-really-be-a-date thing.”

  I tugged on Becky’s arm and she actually managed a few steps before putting on the breaks this time.

  “Seriously, Becky, what are you so afraid of?”

  “Mike,” she breathed.

  I had to hold back a groan. I understood this was hard for her, but I’m not exactly known for my patience. “Did we not just go through all this like five seconds ago?”

  “No!” Becky insisted. She tugged on my arm and pointed across the street. “It’s Mike!”

  She was right. Mike Driscoll was entering the crosswalk, heading right toward us.

  I didn’t need supersight to see the way he stumbled, and I definitely didn’t need heightened senses to smell the alcohol seeping out of his pours. The guy was wasted.

  He reached the street corner at the same time we did and blinked twice when he recognized us. “Well, well, well,” he slurred, “if it isn’t the Prom Queen and her best friend the Ice Queen.”

  Just so you’re aware, I may have been dating the Prom King, but I was not the one given a crown at the school dance. Becky’s the Prom Queen. My royalty status comes from my tendency to be cold hearted, aloof, and, temperamental.

  Not that I enjoyed being a social outcast in high school, but I hadn’t had control of my powers yet and in order not to kill or be killed I was forced to exile myself. My classmates translated my behavior into the nickname the Ice Queen.

  But, thanks to Ryan, I have control now, so I’m totally turning over a new leaf. Which I proved when I didn’t automatically hit Mike or zap him to death. I didn’t even sneer…much. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was trying to go to my econ lecture,” Mike said. “But apparently the school has a ‘No Learning While Drunk’ policy, so now I am on my way to my dorm to sleep it off.”

  Becky gasped in dread. “You go here?”

  I have to admit I found the news highly disturbing as well. “I thought you were going to Connecticut?”

  Mike tried to shrug. It threw off his impaired equilibrium enough to make him stumble back a step. “Blew out my knee over the summer. Lost my scholarship. Bye bye UConn. Hello Suckramento State.”

  For a split second Mike’s face crumpled with pure regret before he plastered his trademark hard smirk back on it. The devastation, along with the public drunkenness, was almost enough to make me feel some sort of pity.

  Almost.

  Apparently Becky wasn’t as conflicted as me. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and gave Mike a glare that could destroy a person’s soul. I know because she used to glare at me like that. It was nice not to be on the receiving end of it now.

  Mike attempted to sober up. “Beck.”

  I don’t know what pissed me off the most, the soft tone of his voice, the use of her nickname, or the fact that he reached his hand out to her.

  I reacted on instinct. A fistful of his shirt, and a sweep of his feet, and I had him on the ground before he got within an inch of her.

  “Whoa,” came an unfamiliar male voice from over my shoulder.

  I didn’t bother to see who was behind me—my eyes were glued to my target—but Becky gave him a nervous explanation. “We took self defense classes this summer.”

  “Must have had quite the instructor,” the stranger muttered.

  I heard Becky’s uneasy laugh at the same time that Mike groaned. “Geez, Baker. Take it easy!”

  If he could still talk I was being too nice. I applied the tiniest bit of pressure to his chest—enough to make him feel the discomfort despite the numbing effect of all the alcohol in his system.

  Okay, so some old habits die hard. My temper wasn’t perfect yet. But at least I hadn’t done any permanent damage, even though I really wanted to.

  “Uh, should I call the police or something?” the stranger, who was starting to get on my nerves, asked.

  I answered his question without taking my eyes off of Mike. “We don’t need the police, do we Mike?”

  I smiled down at him, but I’m not sure he appreciated the gesture. We’d been in this position before, Mike and I. Judging from the way his eyes widened he recalled that moment as perfectly as I did.

  “What did I promise you if you so much as touched her again?”

  I believe I’d sworn to end him if he ever laid another finger on Becky. Maybe not in those exact words, but that was definitely the sentiment of our last face to face.

  I felt a hand come down on my shoulder and Becky whispered, “It’s okay, Jamie. I’m all right. I can handle this.”

  I grudgingly let go of Mike. Our little spectacle had drawn a small crowd, so when I got to my feet I tugged Becky’s hand and said, “Come on, let’s just go.”

  Becky nodded and hit the crosswalk button.

  As we waited for the signal to change a guy tapped me on the shoulder, and flashed a devastating smile. It was the guy Becky and I had been talking about before we’d seen Mike. He was about the same height as me and a little scrawny. His look screamed computer nerd, but he was still sort of adorable with a mop of dark brown wavy hair and rich chocolate brown eyes that were hooded with enviously long lashes. Not to mention he had a set of dimples the size of craters.

  “I was ready to step in on your behalf,” he said, chuckling, “but clearly you didn’t need the help.”

  “Clearly.” I had to choke back a laugh. Him? Assist us with a drunk, unruly linebacker like Mike Driscoll? It would have been like watching a six-week-old kitten going up against a full-grown pit bull.

  The guy flashed a dimpled smile and thrust his hand at me. “
Teodoro Vivenzio,” he announced proudly.

  Now I did laugh. “Tay-oh-what? You want to run that one by me again?”

  “Teodoro Vivenzio. It’s Italian.”

  The light finally changed and I was torn between wanting to make Becky talk to this guy, and getting her away from Mike as quickly as possible. I glanced at Becky and she nodded toward the street. She wanted to bolt. That was fine, but she wasn’t getting out of this meet and greet that easily.

  “Walk with us, Italy,” I said to Mr. Adorkable. “We’re going to the football game. Becky here is a cheerleader for the team.”

  “You don’t say,” our new friend said. His sarcasm rivaled my own, but he happily stepped off the curb with us.

  Before we could get anywhere, Mike grabbed Becky’s arm and pulled her back onto the sidewalk. I think it was the first time he’d touched her since that night. I was ready to lay him out but Becky shook her head at me. She was shaken up, but doing her best to be brave.

  “Becky, wait,” Mike pleaded. “Will you just talk to me? Please.”

  His “please” did nothing to calm Becky’s anger. She yanked her arm out of Mike’s grip and in a trembling voice said, “You and I have nothing to talk about.”

  “We used to be friends.” Mike’s face took on that pitiful quality again, and he reached out again as if to grab her hand.

  Becky’s pulse exploded, but through her panic she reacted exactly as they taught us in self-defense class. She grabbed Mike’s outstretched hand and twisted his arm back at a highly painful angle.

  “Ow!” Mike hollered. For some reason he glared at me. “Damn, Baker what did you do to her?”

  “Me?” I scoffed.

  “What did Jamie do?” Becky shouted. The adrenaline pumping through her system had quelled her fear enough to unleash a year’s worth of suppressed anger.

  “Jamie didn’t do anything! Jamie’s not the reason I have nightmares! You’re the one who made me this way!”

  Mike frowned. “We were both drunk that night. We got carried away, but don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportion? It’s been a year!” Mike had raised his voice, but his shout wasn’t angry. It was frustrated. He sounded surprisingly desperate when he begged her forgiveness. “Can’t you get over it and let me apologize?”

  “Get over it?” Becky screamed. “You raped me!”

  For a moment the entire world paused as if the universe itself was gasping for breath.

  Mike flinched as if Becky had slapped him. She’d never used that word out loud before, at least not outside of her shrink’s office. Not even to me.

  “You keep denying it all you want,” Becky screamed, “but we both know that’s what happened! It’s not something you just get over!”

  Angry tears poured down her face and her entire body shook. This confrontation was hard for her, but it was also necessary. I just wished, for her sake, it could have happened in a more private setting than on a busy street corner in front of half the student population of Sacramento State University.

  “Becky,” I whispered, and gestured my eyes at the crowd of people.

  She took a deep breath and then glared at Mike. “Stay away from me.”

  She gave him a shove and then flung herself into my arms and buried her face in my shoulder.

  We’d missed our chance to cross the street so I pressed the button again. I nearly smashed the stupid thing, pounding it over and over as if that would make the light change sooner.

  Mike watched Becky with a pained expression. He opened his mouth to say more, but I stopped him with my best Ice Queen glare—the scary kind that could make the air around me crackle with energy if I wasn’t careful.

  Mike’s sorrow turned to disgust. “If you don’t want my apology, fine. You guys aren’t worth it anyway.”

  Mike whirled around to walk away from us and in his highly inebriated state he stumbled off the curb without thought. When he walked into the oncoming traffic it was like things went into slow motion.

  Technically, time didn’t slow down. My reflexes sped up. That’s the thing with superspeed. It’s not just my body that’s fast. My brain can process information so quickly that it feels like the world around me has slowed down, when in reality, I’m just taking it all in faster than I normally do.

  The point is, Mike stumbled into the road and I had time to pull him back to safety before the SUV slamming futilely on its brakes plowed into him. I had time to recite the Gettysburg Address and still save him, but instead I froze.

  In that moment my mind had drifted to the dozens of eyes watching the scene unfold with me. I remembered the last time I’d intervened with fate, and the series of events that had caused. They were memories I’d rather forget.

  BAM!

  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, sometimes superhearing can really suck. I may have been able to avoid the visual of the accident by closing my eyes, but there was no way to block out the sound.

  My sensitive ears took in everything. Every single gasp and scream rang in my head along with all the tire squealing and glass shattering. I heard a number of different bones crunching and the heavy thud of flesh hitting pavement. I even heard the sound of blood splatter.

  Of all of that though, the sound that was going to stay with me for the rest of my life was the single moan that escaped Mike’s lips before he went unconscious. It was the sound of pure pain. Pain that I had caused. Okay, maybe I hadn’t caused it. But I’d let it happen. I’d clenched my hands into fists, closed my eyes, and told myself my feet were cemented to the sidewalk.

  I didn’t save Mike Driscoll. And I didn’t do it on purpose. I stood there and let it happen.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mike was still alive. For now. His heart was beating, but it was frighteningly slow. Still, unstable as it was, it was music to my ears. It was the only thing I could focus on—the only thing that mattered.

  I was in shock. I don’t know how long I stood there concentrating on the sound of Mike’s heartbeat, but suddenly there were paramedics in my face asking me if I was all right.

  I wasn’t sure when they’d shown up, or how they’d gotten me sitting in an ambulance with a blanket around my shoulders—or why I needed a blanket around my shoulders—but I didn’t snap out of my daze until after Mike had been carted off to the hospital and was far enough away that I could no longer hear him. Only when the sound of his beating heart disappeared did I realize there was someone trying to ask me questions.

  Becky and I had to give our statements to the police, which we did while the paramedics poked and prodded at me, making sure that I wasn’t going to die of shock. By the time we were allowed to leave the scene of the accident Becky had missed enough of her first game that we both decided to skip it and just go back to our room. We were sure Becky’s cheer coach would understand.

  As we started to leave we were both tapped on the shoulder.

  I turned around to peer into a beautiful pair of eyes. Not the big baby blues I was desperate to see, but nice eyes that were vaguely familiar.

  “I know we just met, but I would feel much better if you would allow me to walk you back to your rooms. You’ve both had quite the shock.” The stranger met my confusion with a concerned smile. “Especially you. You had us all pretty worried there for a while. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m okay,” I promised the guy even though I wasn’t sure that was true. “It’s just that car accidents and I have a bit of a history. I guess I don’t handle them all that well now.”

  That wasn’t a lie. When I was sixteen I was in a terrible car accident that claimed the life of my first boyfriend and left me with a truckload of superpowers. As you can imagine, after that, I really don’t like accidents.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the stranger said. I took in his dark brown wavy hair and smooth skin. He was a little on the skinny side, but he had the most adorable dimples.

  Oh!

  The stranger noticed the recognit
ion spread across my face and gave me a big grin.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t remember your name.”

  “Teodoro Vivenzio,” he said, playing up an accent that hadn’t been there before. “And you’re Jamie Baker.”

  I was startled to hear my own name. “Did I tell you my name?”

  The guy blushed and shrugged a bit sheepishly. “I heard you give it to the police.” He turned his charm on Becky then. “And you’re Becky, right? It’s nice to meet you both.”

  He shook Becky’s hand and surprisingly, she didn’t automatically pull away.

  “So, may I walk you to your dorm?” he asked again, still clinging lightly to Becky’s fingers. “I really would feel better knowing you made it back okay.”

  Tongue-tied, Becky looked to me for help.

  “That’s very nice of you…” I totally blanked. “Um…” His name just wasn’t coming to me even though he’d given it like thirty seconds ago. “Uh…”

  The guy smirked, “Teodoro.”

  “Right. Sorry. Teodoro. Anyway, like I was saying, that’s really nice to offer to walk us back, but you don’t have to. I promise we’ll be okay.”

  “For my sake then,” he insisted. “I’ve never seen anything as awful as all that. I could really use the distraction.”

  I looked to Becky and she sighed. “He has a point. Anything to keep me from thinking about…” Her gaze drifted back to the street and she shivered. There were dark stains in the road where they’d practically scraped Mike from the pavement.

  I shuddered and then relented. I tried to smile for our new friend, but couldn’t really manage it. “Okay. You can join us for some Magic Tea.”

  “Magic Tea?”

  “An herbal concoction guaranteed to make you relax.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  . . . . .

  Becky and I let Dimples—I’d forgotten his name again—stay for a long time. I have no idea what we talked about, or if I even did any of the talking. I couldn’t think about anything but Mike. It was like I could still hear his heart fighting to continue beating in my head. If he died, did that mean his blood was on my hands?