of isolation from
everyone she loved. Even her mom, who called to inform her that she was about to fly
to England with John, her mom’s new boyfriend, who Kylie wasn’t so sweet on. Sure,
her granddad allowed her to call her mom back every time she called. So they had spoken
twice. But only twice.
Kylie’s throat knotted with tears, but she refused to cry. She had to be strong. Pull
up her big-girl panties and be an adult.
“Is the pizza to your liking?” Francyne, her great-aunt, asked.
“Yes, it’s great.” Kylie watched the two older people slice into their pieces of pepperoni
pizza as if it were steak. She knew they served it just for her—because after barely
touching her meals these last few days, they’d asked about her favorite foods. Feeling
obligated, to both eat and to comply with their show of manners, she forced herself
to cut a bite of pizza from her slice and slip it into her mouth.
She wasn’t vampire right now, so she should be able to enjoy food. But, nope.
Nothing tasted right.
Nothing felt right.
Not eating pizza with a fork off a fine china plate that looked old and rare enough
to be in a museum. Not sitting at this fancy dining table with a formal place setting.
And especially not feeling right was the spirit who now moved in closer to her grandfather
and held the sword over his head.
Kylie stared at the spirit. Either tell me exactly what you need, that doesn’t involve murder, or go away.
A drop of blood splattered onto her grandfather’s forehead. Not that he could feel
it or see it. But Kylie could. The spirit performed this show just to get Kylie’s
attention.
And it was working.
Stop it! Leave. Kylie shot a warning glance at the spirit.
You are in a nasty mood, huh? the ghost said.
Yeah, she was, Kylie admitted to herself. A broken heart would do that to you. It
pretty much sucked the joy out of life. Or maybe what sucked the most was missing
everyone.
Not that Kylie’s time here had been in vain. She’d discovered a lot about herself,
about chameleons, these twelve days. Chameleons had only come into being in the last
hundred years. While they considered themselves a species, they were really a blend
of all paranormals—individuals who retained the DNA and powers of all the species.
Problem was, learning to control that power was a real bitch. Most chameleons didn’t
even master the feat until their midtwenties. Not that there were a lot of young chameleons
trying to master things. Chameleons were rare. Her grandfather said about a hundred
compounds existed across the world, but in total there were less than ten thousand
of her kind. And only one in ten chameleon couples had been able to produce a child.
Hence the low population.
Kylie couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be able to have a child. But damn, she
was sixteen, too young to start worrying about being infertile.
“How did classes go today?” her grandfather asked.
Kylie focused on the man. In his seventies, his hair held tight to its strawberry-blond
color, with only a few signs of graying. His eyes, a vivid light blue, matched hers
and her father’s.
Another drop of blood landed on his cheek. Kylie scowled at the smirking spirit who
sliced the sword though the air only an inch above his head.
I said, stop it! Kylie tightened her eyes.
“So it didn’t go well?” her grandfather asked, obviously reading Kylie’s expression.
“No, it went fine. I’m … I was able to switch my pattern from a werewolf to a fae.”
Supernaturals all had patterns that could be seen by other supernaturals. Chameleons
had their own pattern, one they hid. And unlike any other supernatural they could
change into any other species, and attain this species’ powers with the conformation.
Problem was, like their other powers, it wasn’t easy to control. Classes here didn’t
involve so much English, math, and science, but training on how to