Page 11 of Not With the Eyes

Oberon stared out the window. "It hurts the way muscles hurt after a workout, and much the same, the more I do it, the less it hurts. Going much bigger or much smaller can ache, my body can only shrink and grow so much, and I'm a 7-level, so I can't do non-human species. Wouldn't want to, anyway."

"I shudder to think what the G.O.D. and world militaries would do if they had 10-level shapeshifters to hand."

"The stuff of nightmares," Oberon replied. Her biggest fear was being captured, experimented on and exploited. Another thing she and Byron had in common, along with Matt and Dixie. Of the four of them, she was the only one who hadn't been under the knife of a mad scientist. She wanted vehemently to keep it that way.

Silence fell for a couple of minutes, and then Scones said, "So can I ask a question that isn't just copying yours?"

Oberon huffed a laugh. "I suppose that's fair."

"Do you have a favorite form? I know from research that shapeshifters don't actually have a default appearance, as it were, they just most often cling to the one they had before their ability kicked in."

No one had ever asked her that before. "Not really. It's true that back in the day I stuck to the form I grew up with." She still would if she could fucking remember it, but she'd rather die than admit that. "These days, when I'm not looking a particular way for a job, I do whatever suits my fancy."

"Did you ever have lovers that tried to make you stay a certain way?"

"Two, when I was young. I dumped them immediately." Oberon cast him a sideways glance, but Scones eyes were, of course, on the road. "What's it like trying to score a date as Algernon Lachapelle?"

"Thrill seekers and power seekers, pretty much as you'd expect. Jokes always been on them, though. My mother wouldn't offer me a glass of water if I was dying of thirst. She'd just tell me to stop being a whiny pissbaby and get back to work."

Oberon snorted. "Your mother is, and I cannot stress this enough, a stone-hearted bitch who deserves to be shot in the face."

"You've no idea how many times I've thought of doing precisely that."

"Why didn't you?"

"Various reasons, but among them: I'm not going to prison or on the run for her. It wouldn't necessarily solve anything, not at the times I could have done it; and I feel like other people have priority on that privilege."

Oberon wasn't sure what to say to that. She'd waited decades for a chance to kill Lachapelle… but fuck, the woman apparently had used her son as a punching bagandforced him to become a killer. There were entire fucking battles in history that didn't have Scones's body count. As much as she hated to fucking admit it, she couldn't begrudge him if Scones wanted the honor of ridding the world of Margaux Lachapelle.

Instead of saying any of that, though, she only said, "Why Algernon?"

Scones groaned. "Because that was the name of some bloodthirsty tyrant in history that my mother loves and admires. I think she was hoping I'd live up to my namesake, but ransacking villages, raping and murdering my way across the continent, really isn't my style. Well, the murder part is, I guess."He sighed, and after another lull said quietly, "My middle name is Stéphane."

"Algernon Stéphane Lachapelle," Oberon said, the French rolling easily off her tongue. "Why don't you go by your middle name?"

"Didn't want all the people I despised using the only name I have that I like," Scones replied. "I seriously doubt I'd ever fail to recognize you, no matter how you look, but if you're ever in doubt, use that. I'll know it's you for sure."

"All right." Oberon didn't know what else to say. She'd woken up yesterday as cheerfully ready to punch Scones in his stupid face as ever. Now she was running off with him on an off-books mission, and they were, despite everything, building trust.

Every time she thought life couldn't possibly get more complicated, she was proven wrong.

What in the hell was going to happen next?

*~*~*

They arrived in the late evening, as the sky was turning purple and stars were just beginning to glimmer, though the clouds swiftly approaching promised rain would soon take over.

Slamming the car door shut, Oberon hastened into the twenty-four-hour diner they'd stopped at. After this, they'd crash somewhere for a few hours, and then finally hit the storage facility. Better to be rested and refreshed in case anything went sideways.

The smell of eggs, pancakes, and coffee washed over him as he stepped inside, and Oberon pulled off the baseball cap he'd dug out of his luggage while they'd been stuck in a traffic jam that had resulted from a six car pileup on a two-lane road. He'd also changed himself up just for variety and security's sake.

He sat at a booth that would let them see the whole room without pinning them into a corner. Most importantly, they hadclear sight of the door. Not that Oberon expected there to be a problem. He'd been keeping an ear on the chatter, and hadn't heard anything that indicated anyone gave a damn about them.

Though he wouldn't be surprised if Byron and Dixie were doing some work on their end. Byron was likely pissed as hell, but he wouldn't leave them high and dry.

The server shuffled over, stifling a yawn. "What can I get you, boys?"

"I'll take the largest breakfast platter you've got," Scones said. "Eggs scrambled hard. Wheat toast, strawberry jam. Lots of coffee."

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