Summer held September in an iron grip, the muggy air more suited to a southern July day than an autumn evening in the mountains. But I shivered and couldn't stop.

Huddled on the floor of the fishing cottage, my arms were wrapped around my knees. Outside the breeze knocked branches against the shelter, the noise one of hisses and scratches. In every sound I heard him, and my body trembled harder.

Rocking back and forth, I prayed for dawn to arrive. The light would give me courage to leave and head to a town. I looked at the blood on my hands. Dried and flaking, the smell still burned my nostrils, the odor as rusted as its color. The color the same as Addie's hair.

I had not cried once. Not when the first gunshot was fired. Not when Addie collapsed and didn't get up again. Not when the swollen river tried to drag me under. Tears would get me killed and make her sacrifice pointless.

The shivering ceased. I wouldn't allow her death to be meaningless. Standing, legs wobbling beneath me, I rummaged through the shack for anything useful. The scrubs I wore were not fit for public, stained and torn beyond repair, but there was nothing here that would fit me.

Unless...

I picked the discarded coveralls and considered the adjustments I would have to make. It wouldn't take much, but I lacked practice and control. Willing the changes, the room blurred before me, and what little remained in my stomach burned as it raced up my throat. Spitting the bile onto the ground, it seemed a good idea to forget trying that again.

The first order of business would be obtaining an outfit that wouldn't get the authorities called. A bitter laugh choked me. If only the authorities could be contacted, but I had a sneaking suspicion that Anton's influence reached far and deep. Deep into the pockets of miserable, easily bought people. The very same people who'd sat around a table and laughed as he sunk his fists into my body, bruising me from the outside in. Just to put on a show.

Shoving my long, dark hair beneath someone's forgotten cap, I crept to the window and peered out. The first hint of morning's golden light teased through the trees, but my attention was focused on the girl in the glass. The reflection was faint, but I could see the sadness in the dark eyes. No amount of shifting could hide it, but sadness was acceptable. Defeat was not.

Twisting the corroded knob, I eased the door open and slipped into the outside world. The river had carried me a great distance and my feet further, but Anton and his men could be anywhere. My fingers fluttered to the wound on my neck. Addie had held me down while the lab tech who'd assisted in our escape pried the tracking device from my body. There'd been no time for numbing the area or treating the pain.

East. I would walk into the sunrise and consider it a sign of better things. The first few miles were easy, bolstered by forced optimism, but by the time the sun held court directly above me, I was flagging. Never could I remember aching in so many places or being so tired.

"Of course--" My voice in the quiet startled me, and I shot worried glances at every shadow and tree. Content that my spoken thoughts hadn't brought down disaster, I continued to think aloud. "Of course, it's not as though you can remember very much at all. It's how you ended up in this mess."

The one-sided castigation might have continued, but a savory scent wafting by sent my mind into a tailspin. I was still walking through the woods; the chances I'd wandered upon a home were slim, but it was black bear season in this part of the state. It was likely a hunting camp, and lunch was about to be served.

Dropping into a crouch, my fingers gripped the damp soil to maintain my balance. Miles swimming and walking without sleep were taking their toll, and I couldn't quite fathom how any part of me was still functioning. Just another freakish characteristic to add to your list.

Voices, predominantly male, though a higher pitched voice could indicate a child or woman was present, drifted to my hiding spot. They were bantering back and forth, placing bets on who would go home empty handed. Definitely not the behavior of people planning on leaving the campfire anytime soon, but I didn't mind the rest.

In fact, I'll just close my eyes a moment...

When I came to, the bits of blue between the canopy were gone, replaced by velvety black and starlight. Panic launched me to my feet. What a stupid mistake. To fall asleep out in the open with no shelter, and my stomach chose that moment to remind me: no food.

Not a peep sounded from the direction of the camp, and it was the gurgling in my abdomen that pushed me forward. A tin building sat in the clearing. Tiny windows revealed the interior was dark, but the scent of smoke in the air made me think they'd not gone to bed long ago.

Hallelujah! A large rectangle cooler rested near the smoldering fire, and I was willing to eat whatever was left in there. Prying open the lid, a banquet appeared. Cold cokes, cellophane wrapped snacks, and ziplocked sandwiches rested in half melted ice. Ripping open an oatmeal cream pie, I shoved the smushed cookie into my mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. Burning carbonation washed it down before I started in on a sandwich.

For almost thirty minutes, I ate. My stomach stretched the elastic waist of my scrubs, and the caffeine in my system was making me jittery. Grabbing two more sandwiches, I sent a silent thank you in the direction of the hunters and moved on.

Within the next hour, I reached the end of the wilderness. The artificial lights of a convenience store burned into my tired retinas, but I headed to it like a moth to a flame. To use a real toilet. To wash my hands. Such simple pleasures were becoming the highlights of my daydreams. This gas station was a paradise.

The hour was late enough that the station was empty of customers; the clerk raised her head and gave me a disapproving look before returning to her phone. I appreciated the lack of attention and made my way to the bathroom. The space was clean, if dingy and malodorous. My standards for paradise had fallen a long way.

Twisting the knobs on the sink, I let the water heat to a temperature just below flesh peeling before thrusting my blood crusted hands beneath the flow. Pink and brown streaks swirled down the sink, carrying away the evidence of murder but not the memories.

'Out. Out damn spot.' Funny, the guilt I feel, yet I didn't pull the trigger.

I didn't stop scrubbing until the water ran clear, and my skin was raw. Free from grime, I could once again see the tattoo on my left forearm. The ink looked new, black and bright against tan skin, but it was from the life before. The one I'd forgotten.

Abrasions covered my palms and arms, only now making me aware of their presence, stinging from the antibacterial soap. None were deep enough for concern, but every mark reminded me of the effort it had taken to escape.

Lifting my head, I stared at the girl in the mirror. Bruised circles sat atop sharp cheekbones, and her face's natural olive hue had been leached away. The baseball hat was removed, and the hair hiding beneath it fell around her face and below her shoulders. Dirt had dimmed the cinnamon highlights running through the loam colored strands.

This brown eyed girl was a stranger to me. She'd been one for a long time-since the moment she woke up alone and without memories, and I'd done all I could to hold onto her. But now she had to go, and Anton had helped me find the perfect way to discard her.

Concentrating, I tugged on the core of my power—a knot in the center of my stomach where all my pains and pleasures tangled together, waiting to erupt. When his fists hadn't stopped and his words were even more hurtful, I'd found this gift waiting for me there.

Unlike when I'd tried before, I had food and sleep. The change came easily, and when I opened my eyes, I was not surprised to see crystal blue irises sparkling in the pale face of a blonde girl. Years had been stripped away leaving a child behind. She was shorter this girl, thinner and less striking. The cuts and bruises were gone, as well as the tattoo. This girl could fade into a crowd and escape notice. Exactly the kind of girl I needed to be.

When I left the convenience store, the clerk didn't lift her head for which I was grateful. Explanations weren't on my agenda tonight, but as I stepped back into the mild autumn evening, I wondered exactly what my agenda was. The road would lead to a town, but I had no money. Not unless I decided to hold up the gas station. That thought was shoved away as quickly as it came. Cross one line and they'd all become crossable.

Kicking a pebble down the asphalt, I started up the hill. A mile marker sign indicated that the nearest town, Avalon, was five miles away, which meant there was plenty of time to formulate a plan, or to find some sort of shelter from the elements. The smell in the air suggested rain was imminent, and it didn't matter how unseasonably warm it was, I didn't want to be caught out in a storm.

I'd gone about two miles when my ears picked up on the twangy sounds of a country song. Nervous, I darted behind a tree and waited for the oncoming car to pass, but it never did. "Well that's strange... here you go again. Talking to yourself."

After walking several more yards, the music grew louder, and now I could hear raucous voices mingling with the strains of fiddle. I followed the noise until I found a small path. The crunch of gravel beneath the worn sneakers covering my feet made me cringe with each step, but the neon signs proclaiming various alcoholic beverages eased my worries. Loud music and flowing drinks would mask my presence.

Slipping around the side, I moved to the back of the building, certain there would be dumpsters with scraps there. The area behind the bar was surprisingly well lit, and the property backed right up to the woods. The location was perfect for people who wanted to party without bothering the neighbors.

Sure enough, two dumpsters were pushed against the wall, their lids flung back revealing mounds of black bags, some torn and leaking mystery fluids. Scrounging had seemed like a good plan until I was faced with the reality, and I reminded myself that I still had a sandwich shoved in my pockets. I'd not yet fallen so low.

The clanging of the back door sent me diving between the metal containers, unconsciously shifting so that my physique became slender enough to fit with ease. It cost me, though, and I had to drop my forehead against the cool dumpster to keep from fainting. Having had access to balanced meals and adequate rest while at Anton's, I'd never realized the extent of the strain this ability put on my body. Holding the shift required little energy, but even the smallest changes overwhelmed me right now.

The dumpster rattled as a bag was tossed in, and I prayed whoever was taking out the garbage wouldn't dawdle outside. But the snick of a thumb rolling over a lighter's flint wheel dashed those hopes.

"I thought you'd quit." Either the woman suffered from the same bad habit of speaking to herself as I did, or my bad luck was showing out and there were two people present.

A male voice proved the latter to be true. "And then I bought a bar."

"What's with the attitude?"

"Iggy is there a reason you came out here with me, because honestly, I would've just let you take the trash out. I do pay you for that, by the way."

Iggy snorted in response. "Gavin, you don't pay anyone here enough to take the garbage out."

The two lapsed into silence, leading me to believe they might be about to head back inside. My thighs were shaking in the crouched position I'd assumed, screaming protests that were about to inch past my lips in whimpers.

"He say what time he'd be here?" The woman was speaking again.

"No, said they had some trouble last night, it's causing some delays."

"Mierda, Gavin, you know it's not wise to keep them here this long."

"Would you like to tell them that? You know they don't listen to me." A crushed cigarette bounced into the view between the dumpsters. "Let's go inside, it's starting to rain."

He was right. The sky had opened up and the rain poured over the edges of the dumpsters, soaking through the thin scrubs. Metal scraped as the door was pulled open, and loud, offending music drifted into the alley, and I couldn't stop the moan of relief.

"Who's out there?" Gavin demanded, letting the door clang shut. When he spoke again, it was in soft, welcoming tones. "I can get you a warm meal."

Indecision warred within me. On the one hand, I was made. A few steps would lead them to my hiding spot, but I had no explanation prepared. No name to give them... because that name was gone. I wouldn't chance it riding through rumors and whispers back to Anton.

"Come out." The softness took on a steely edge. One that prodded me to a standing position and dragged me into their view. Faces blank, they examined me. I knew what they saw. A girl with dark blonde hair and of average height with tangled, filthy hair. She wasn't beautiful. Separate her features, and you might call her beautiful, but all together, she just missed the mark. Her mouth a little too wide, her nose a little too snubbed, and her face a little too round. This was the real test of my disguise.

Please, I'm sorry. I'll move on."

"Ay Dios mio, Gavin, she's just a kid. Honey, where are your parents?" Iggy rushed to my side, chilled fingers gripping my arms as she perused me with chocolate eyes. She was younger than I thought, her husky voice misleading. While not tall, daisy dukes showcased long, lean bronzed legs, and a tight, fitted tank showed off toned arms. But even though she looked the part of a waitress in a seedy bar, something felt off.

"You run away?" Gavin asked, not waiting for me to answer Iggy's question, possibly surmising from from my reluctance to be seen that I wasn't searching for my mommy. With the face of an angel, blue eyes, dimples, and blonde curls, his presence should be comforting, but comfort was not the emotion he was eliciting from me.

"Let's get you out of this rain and get a bite to eat. Estas temblando como un flan," Iggy said, shooting a venomous glare at Gavin as she guided me towards the door. I had no clue what her Spanish interjections meant, but from the way she was rubbing her hands across my arms, I was guessing she implying I was cold.

"I-I shouldn't go in there. I'm not old enough." Possibly true.

Behind me, the man exhaled with exasperation. "We're going to the kitchen, not out to the bar. You'll be fine."

Panic set in as Iggy guided me into the building, but each attempt I made to turn around made me feel disoriented and achy. Perhaps taking a seat and consuming a hot meal at a normal pace was in my best interest. I might even manage to wait out the rain.

"Here, sit. I'll be right back." She said, leaving me alone with the brooding blond man.

My long was hair was wet and chilly against my shoulders. I wanted to ring it out, but Gavin's presence was paralyzing. Anton didn't like to let me near other men. All of the lab rats who tended to me were female, and the staff I worked with before being banished to the basement were all women as well. That made this man the first one I'd been alone with in nearly six months.

"Why is she still dripping all over the kitchen," Iggy demanded, walking back into the room with a t-shirt and jeans in her hands.

"I'm very sorry."

"I don't know what you're sorry about. I want to know why this idiota hasn't brought you a towel," she exclaimed, sorting through the pile of freshly laundered cleaning cloths until she found one big enough. She reached my side and began to pat me dry. Clicking her tongue in a motherly fashion, she worked until I looked less like a drowned rat and more like a girl.

Satisfied, Iggy chucked the towel at Gavin's head. He rolled his eyes and dropped it in the dirty rag bin. The interaction between himself and his employee soothed my frayed nerves, and I relaxed enough to offer a timid smile.

"So, do you have a name?"

"I do," I responded, hoping a little sass would give me a moment to create an identity. Think... they called you Chameleon in the lab... Camille.

The show of spirit sparked a change in Gavin's demeanor, and the arctic chill in his face melted. The edges of his lips turned up. "Care to share it with us? Seeing as you're about to eat our food."

"Camille--" I spied a name written on a schedule, "Vance."

"Well, Camille Vance, I'm Iggy and this is Gavin," she said dropping a plate of hot wings in front of me. Stepping back, she folded her hands across her chest. "Eat."

"You won't find any missing persons reports," I volunteered around a mouthful of chicken, noticing Gavin surreptitiously typing on his phone. It was a guess, but a good one because he dropped the cell into his pocket with a sheepish shrug. "My parents are dead, and the foster family I stayed with agreed to not alert the authorities about me leaving if I didn't report them for abuse. Win win for both of us." Mix enough truth with your lies to keep things simple.

Iggy tisked, "Pobrecita... where were you going to sleep tonight? This rain isn't going away anytime soon, and it's going to get cold soon."

"I-I hadn't really figured that part out."

Gavin spoke up. "I own a few apartments in town, and one of them is open. You're welcome to stay there."

"By myself?"

"Of course. It's just a tiny place. One bedroom. Barely more than a studio."

"I appreciate your offer, but I can't pay for it right now."

I popped another wing into my mouth and headed towards the exit. My soggy shoes squelched with each step. Every part of me wanted to accept this offer, but cages came in many forms, many of them filled with lavish comforts that concealed the darkness.

"How about this," he offered, "I know you're too young to work the floor, but you have a job in the kitchen if you want it. Part of your pay can be the apartment. Once you have some money saved, we can renegotiate the terms, or you can move on."

"And what exactly do you get out of all of this?" I demanded. "Men...people don't do things like this without expecting something in return."

"I like helping people, and it sounds like you've met the wrong kind of people."

"He speaks truth," Iggy added. "We could help you get on your feet."

The other woman's defense of her employer lowered my guard. I saw nothing in her demeanor that indicated fear; she'd even gone as far as to question and tease him. Would she willingly send a sister into the clutches of a bad man?

"I'll take it." My lack of memory meant a limited skill set to offer the workforce, and as much as I feared making the same mistakes and finding another Anton, I didn't want to go back to life on the streets. I'd be more cautious this time, and at the first hint of trouble, I'd be gone. With a new face.

"Excellent," he responded. "Iggy, will you see to it that Camille is given a week's worth of t-shirts and aprons. The apartment has a washer and dryer, but you still don't want to do laundry every day. And you won't want to wear them more than once."

The latina beauty squeezed me in a tight hug, making me feel like an adopted puppy from the pound. "Come on kiddo. Welcome to the family."