Thank you, everyone, for waiting another week. I'm mostly vertical, with occasional lapses, but certainly vertical enough to prop in a chair. (With a biiiiiiggg cup of tea.
) I appreciate everyone who's reading, and thanks to those who leave feedback.
keepsmiling 7, the empty nest is certainly an issue. I think a lot of it is that we just get used to things being a certain way, and when they change after 2 or 3 decades, it's a shock to the system. But birds need to fly, and so do we--I've discovered that an empty nest allows me to fly in new directions too. (But I'm grateful my nest isn't emptying for the same reason Jeff Parker's and Jim Valenti's will!)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
September 9, 2000, 12:30 p.m.
Crashdown Cafe
So here it is, Courtney thought, facing a perfectly coiffed, beady-eyed Vanessa in this oddest of places where she'd never expected to. In a curious way, that was actually comforting; the waiting game was over, and her instincts had been sound after all. Whether she lived to celebrate either remained to be seen.
"Lurking in storerooms?" Courtney said. "Quite the comedown for someone more accustomed to limos and private jets. How the mighty have fallen."
Vanessa rose from her seat, a battered folding chair used in lieu of a proper stepladder for reaching tall shelves. "Ah, yes—you were always quite the smartass. I'd forgotten how little I've missed that. And this wasn't my first choice, but finding the right place for a family reunion was a bit...problematic."
" 'Family'?" Courtney echoed. "No way are we 'family'. And what exactly is the plan here? I won't go quietly, and there's a whole restaurant out there that will come running the minute they hear something. Unless the plan is to make it look like some disgruntled co-worker offed me, in which case I can introduce you to someone who'd like to."
"A kindred spirit," Vanessa said dryly. "But surprisingly enough, I'm not here to kill you. I knew you'd find that hard to believe, which is why I chose an obviously public place to have this meeting, somewhere that would lend credence to my claims. Not to mention—"
"Get back to the part where you're not here to kill me," Courtney interrupted. "Because I'd sure like to kill you."
"I'm sure you would," Vanessa said, "or rather, you'd like to try. And the feeling is mutual, I assure you. But recent events have changed things. As it turns out...I do believe we're now on the same side."
Courtney snorted softly. "As if! Of all the idiotic stories you could come up with—"
"Stop talking," Vanessa ordered. "We have a chance we will never have again, and I am going to pursue that chance as far as I can, into the ground if necessary, even if it means allowing runty little traitors like you to keep breathing. Shut the door, shut your mouth, and listen up."
Courtney's mouth set in a thin line as she closed the door behind her. She had no idea why Vanessa wanted to chat before she killed her, but whatever; the longer she yakked, the more likely they'd be discovered, Maria's perverse habit of sniffing her out suddenly presenting as useful. She wouldn't go quietly either, so the two of them ought to be able to make a large enough fuss to attract attention.
"Good girl," Vanessa said approvingly as Courtney smoldered. "Now...I'm sure you came to Roswell for the same reason I did."
"You're waiting tables?" Courtney said. "Never took you for the server type. Take my advice and ditch the heels."
"Oh, for God's sake, don't play coy with me," Vanessa said impatiently. "The signal, of course. No doubt the Resistance noticed it."
"For all the good it did us," Courtney said. "No one's here."
Vanessa smiled. "Nice try. You're either lying or clueless, which, I don't care. There's someone here, all right, and that someone and I have reached an understanding."
"Great," Courtney deadpanned. "So your hairdresser talked you into that brassy brunette. And this interests me...why?"
"Will you be serious?" Vanessa snapped. "This is serious!"
"If it's so 'serious', then spit it out," Courtney retorted. "You and 'someone' reached an 'understanding'? The very notion of you reaching an 'understanding' with anyone is side-splitting, so forgive me if I need a few more details before my give-a-shit meter starts to budge."
"Fine," Vanessa said flatly. "Rath's Warder and I have come to an agreement."
Here we go, Courtney thought. With luck, she'd live long enough to suss out the truth of this so-called "agreement" and pass it on to interested parties. "Rath's Warder?" she repeated incredulously. "An 'agreement'? What kind of agreement? How he intends to execute you? Did you do an Ann Boleyn and talk him into a French swordsman?"
"No one's executing anyone, least of all him," Vanessa retorted. "I just saved his ass. He owes me."
Courtney blinked. " 'Saved' him…you 'saved' a Royal Warder? How? Why?"
"The details aren't important," Vanessa declared. "Suffice it to say that he's still walking and talking because I allowed it, and because someone needs to fix this…and it turns out he and I might have a way."
"Fix what?" Courtney demanded.
"Antar!" Vanessa exclaimed. "Our shambles of a planet! I want to go home, and when I get there, I want something still standing, some
one still standing. That's not going to happen if Khivar remains in power."
Courtney pressed her jaw shut to keep it from falling into her lap. "And yes, I know I just spoke treason," Vanessa went on. "But Khivar has been nothing but a disaster since he got the big chair; the planet is a mess, our sister planets are a mess, everyone hates him. He's been on his way out the door ever since the Warders sent our ship back with that message that the king would return, and now that we know the king
has returned, he's got one foot
out the door. We need to shove him through it before he completely ruins everything, and it will take a combined effort to accomplish that. Jaddo and I have come up with a peace treaty we think will work."
"And Khivar agreed," Courtney said skeptically. "Nicholas agreed."
"Of course not," Vanessa snorted. "Nicholas is an idiot. Khivar is an idiot. All men are idiots. If you haven't figured that out yet, you're welcome."
"Thanks for the tip," Courtney said.
"Khivar will take the deal because it's the only way to keep his head," Vanessa continued. " Zan will take the deal because it's the only way to continue his dynasty...unless Brivari talks him out of it. He's the real power behind the throne, the one we have to convince to throw his weight behind this. Jaddo has his work cut out for him."
Courtney stared at her, not certain which statement was more fantastic—that Brivari could talk Zan out of anything, or that Jaddo was capable of any kind of "work", what with being dead and all. "So," she said slowly, "where do I fit into all of these grand plans?"
"You're Resistance. The Resistance always opposed Khivar, and that's important because everyone doesn't just hate Khivar, they hate all of us. Khivar's behavior has managed to tarnish our entire race," Vanessa went on bitterly. "Here we finally come to power, and he wrecks it for us. But you...you are the daughter of the leader of the Resistance, which makes you the current face of the Resistance. If you buy into this, the odds it will succeed skyrocket."
"And then what?" Courtney said. "If everyone hates us, where do we go from there?"
"We retreat," Vanessa sighed. "We withdraw, and wait for another chance to take power."
Courtney raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you left that part out of your…'discussion'...with Jaddo."
"I did," Vanessa allowed, "but it doesn't matter. He knows what I intend to do. Hell, that's what he's been doing these past many years. Jaddo and I are...very much alike," she finished softly. "We think alike. We act alike. We both prefer bluntness to beating around the bush, action to political gamesmanship. We are uniquely suited to accomplish this."
Holy freakin' shit, Courtney thought, resisting the urge to gape at her. Vanessa sounded...smitten? Not exactly, but there was a definite note of admiration, an exceedingly rare thing coming from Vanessa. "So," Vanessa went on, "when the time comes, I need you to have a chat with your representative from the crown—"
"Wait—my what?" Courtney broke in.
"Let's not waste our mutually valuable time," Vanessa said wearily. "Hybrids? You're hiding some of them? Ring a bell? And if that doesn't, how about that house you're paying for on a waitress's salary? I know you're working for the crown."
"I prefer to think of it as working
with the crown," Courtney remarked.
"Sweetheart, no one works 'with' the crown," Vanessa said. "Whether you realize it or not, you're working 'for' the crown."
"So that means you're not making a deal 'with' the crown, you're making a deal 'for' the crown," Courtney mused.
Vanessa's eyes hardened. "Just tell your handler that you support the treaty."
"I don't even know what's in this treaty," Courtney said. "And what if my contact is Jaddo? Sounds like telling him won't do much good."
"Of course it will," Vanessa said. "The more support he has when he brings this to Brivari, the more weight it will carry. Come to my office tonight and we'll—"
"No."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"You really think I'd just walk into the lion's den?" Courtney said. "My 'support'—assuming I agree to give it—doesn't mean a whole lot if I'm that stupid. I'll find you."
"So you think
I'm that stupid to let you pick the time and place?" Vanessa demanded.
Courtney rose from her chair, a small smile on her face. "I had no idea I frightened you so much," she said as Vanessa's expression darkened. "Good to know. You want my help?
I pick. End of story."
"Oh, all right," Vanessa said peevishly. "But not a peep to your contact until you've heard me out. Do I have your word?"
"You know, I hadn't thought about that," Courtney said innocently. "I could use this to my advantage in so many ways, it isn't even funny—"
In one swift motion, Vanessa crossed the space between them and grabbed her by the arms. "You do that, and our one hope of surviving this dies," she said sharply. "What's the one thing you want most? If you could pick something right now, anything, anything at all, what would you want?"
Dangling in Vanessa's grip, her nails digging into her husk, Courtney blurted out the first thing which came to mind. "To live. Because if I'm dead, it's all over, whether or not any of this is true."
Vanessa's eyes widened; she looked blank for a moment, then abruptly released her. Her hands came away trailing sheafs of skin which hung from her fingertips in long, shimmering threads that sparkled in the storeroom's dim light.
"Yours, too," she said quietly. "But then we're all the same vintage. It's a bitch, isn't it? Now I know how humans feel when they grow old in that peculiarly vivid way they do."
Courtney said nothing as the trails of skin cells dissolved into dust. "We should be able to harvest the new husks in time," Vanessa continued. "It'll be tight, but if we're lucky, we'll manage. I can get you your replacement husk, and I'm the only one who can. Keep that in mind before you shoot your mouth off, because the one thing
I want beyond merely surviving is to go home, and I'm betting you want that too. If you want anything left to go home to, don't screw this up."
Vanessa stepped past her and opened the storeroom door; light flooded in, making Courtney squint as she remembered to grab a bag of sugar before she left. They'd no sooner stepped outside when Maria appeared.
"
There you are!" she exclaimed. "Found her!"
Mr. Parker appeared, doing a double take when he saw Vanessa. "I'm so sorry," Vanessa said with her trademark congressional smile. "I'm afraid I borrowed one of your employees for some directions. I hope I haven't caused a problem."
"Of course not!" Mr. Parker exclaimed as Maria's eyes narrowed. "Always a pleasure to help out our government representatives. How are you enjoying the lunches we're sending over?"
"Enormously, thank you," Vanessa answered. "This country's foundations rest on family-owned businesses like yours that I'm delighted to support." She turned to Courtney. "Thank you again for your help, Miss…?"
"Banks," Courtney answered.
"Yes, well, thank you, Miss Banks. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
Courtney finally started breathing again as Mr. Parker enthusiastically walked his so-called congresswoman to the door. "Jesus," Maria muttered. "And I thought
I was teflon. Nothing sticks to you, does it?"
"I wouldn't know," Courtney said. "I'm not the one throwing dirt. Now if you'll excuse me, I have sugars to refill."
She left Maria fuming and completely unaware of how badly her hands were shaking, so badly that refilling sugars would have to wait. She thought she'd bought it back there when Vanessa had grabbed her, and was nothing short of flabbergasted to still be breathing. She'd assumed it was all a ruse, a tall tale to gain some sort of advantage, but now she wasn't so sure. Not only did Vanessa seem to believe Jaddo was still alive, her tone lacked the usual levels of guile and haughtiness; mostly she had projected a desperate earnestness and an almost palpable contempt for the ones she served. If this was genuine, hell really had frozen over. What to do now? She'd talk to Dee, of course, but this required an Antarian perspective. Jaddo was obviously unavailable, and Brivari was MIA. Her fellow Resistance members would never believe this could be genuine for the same reason she had trouble believing it. For just a moment, her eyes drifted toward the kitchen, where the one hybrid who might actually care was flipping burgers…
"Delivery!" Rath called. "UFO Museum. Who wants it?"
"I do," Courtney said quickly.
Ten minutes later, after handing a bag of food to Larak's hungry host, she left a scribbled note in their hiding place. Larak wasn't Antarian, but he was the closest thing she had to an advisor. He would have to do.
*********************************************************
Roswell Sheriff's Station
"I do not understand why I learned vital information like that sitting at Jeff Parker's lunch counter," Valenti said angrily. "Do you have any idea how awkward that was? Do you have any idea what a compromising position that put me in?"
No worse a position than I've found myself in a million times over, Dee thought, working hard to maintain a neutral expression as Valenti paced in front of her, working up a good head of steam. The sheriff was angry that he'd learned of "Nasedo's" death from Max, but the truth was she hadn't even thought about telling him. Everything was still too fresh, too raw, too topsy turvy to start dragging others into this, and there was no need to anyway. Or so she'd thought until the King of Antar, a.k.a. her grandson, had decided otherwise, complicating an already complicated situation in ways he couldn't imagine. Perhaps it was best that she'd spent most of her time just listening to Valenti vent because when her turn came to talk, she wasn't sure how much to tell him. She'd rather not go into the nitty gritty of the "enemies-here-on-Earth" bit, or out Courtney, or even out Vanessa. She already had more questions than answers, and reading the sheriff chapter and verse would only lead to more questions she didn't have answers for.
"I'm sorry you found yourself in an uncomfortable situation," Dee said. "I had no idea Max would pull you into this—"
"At least someone did!" Valenti exclaimed. "Jesus! People are murdered in my town, and I don't know about it? Max wanted to know if I'd heard of any other deaths or anything strange, and I told him I hadn't, but I just spent the past hour combing through the call log to make certain we hadn't missed anything."
"You didn't," Dee said, privately noting that Max's instincts had been sound. "This was what you'd call a 'private hit'. Whoever did this wasn't interested in taking out humans."
"See, it's the 'whoever' part that worries me," Valenti said. "Max told me an enemy alien killed Nasedo. I only know about the kids and their guardians. Who are these enemy aliens? Did you know about them?"
"I don't know who killed him, if that's what you're asking," Dee said. "But I do know they have enemies. That's why they were chased off the throne."
"Great," Valenti muttered, angry enough that he hadn't noticed she'd dodged his question. "I've got murderous enemy aliens lose in my town."
"Not for long," Dee said. "The other Warder is pursuing whoever did this. He'll find them."
"Like the first one did?" Valenti demanded. "How do we know his goose won't wind up cooked too? Hell, how do we know
he didn't kill Nasedo?"
Dee broke into a laugh, which drew raised eyebrows from Valenti. "I'm sorry," she said hastily. "It's just that those two have been at odds ever since they crashed 50 years ago. Believe me when I say that if either were ever so inclined to kill the other, they would have done so long ago. They didn't because they realize what's at stake, how hard it's going to be to get all of them back home. It's the only thing which has kept them speaking to each other all these years. Even when they weren't speaking to each other."
She chuckled at that last statement, but stopped when saw the look on the sheriff's face. "You're laughing," he said accusingly. "That was a legitimate question, and you're
laughing. Not to mention that I just talked to a kid who thinks his only connection to his world is gone when I know otherwise, but wasn't supposed to say anything. And I can promise you, that is
not funny!"
"Of course it isn't," Dee said, irritation edging her voice. "What do you think I've been grappling with these past many years? But there is a reason for that, one which—"
"One which doesn't matter," Valenti declared. "There is no good reason to keep what we know from Max. I went along with this while there were two of these 'guardians', but now there's only one. He needs to know about the other one."
"I sympathize with your position, but there
is a good reason," Dee said. "There's no way I would have kept silent all this time without one—"
"Whatever it is doesn't matter now that one of them is dead," Valenti interrupted.
Dee's eyes narrowed. "It not only matters, it's more important than ever."
"If you don't tell him, I will," Valenti announced.
"Don't you even want to know what it is?" Dee demanded. "It's not like you to ignore facts."
"It's also not 'like me' to lie to people," Valenti retorted. "It's not 'like me' to be completely unaware that people are being murdered in my town. It's not 'like me'—"
There was a knock on the door, and a deputy poked his head in. "Sheriff? I've got that—"
"
Not now, Hanson!" Valenti roared.
The deputy retreated, ashen faced as Dee's mouth set in a thin line. "I think you need to take a step back, Jim—"
"That's 'sheriff' to you!" Valenti barked.
"Oh, is that so?" Dee snapped, rising to her feet, her patience gone. "First it was 'sheriff', then it was 'call me Jim', and now we're back to 'sheriff' just because you don't like what happened? Well, I've got news for you, buddy; no one likes what happened, least of all the one who died or the one left holding the bag. And no one knows what happened except the one who died and the one who killed him. Here you are, carrying on like you're the only one in the dark when we're
all in the dark! You want to know what happened?
Get in line!"
Dee plopped back down in her chair as Valenti gaped at her, every bit as white as the deputy who'd fled. She'd probably gone too far, but it was infuriating to sit here watching a grown man throw a temper tantrum because he didn't know every last thing he wanted to now. Good Lord, when had she known every last thing she'd wanted to know? When had the kids? When had anyone? To hear him talk,
he was the victim instead of Jaddo, instead of the kids left with a single Warder, instead of Brivari, now on his own. She'd likely regret it, but at this moment, she didn't care if she'd just wrecked their alliance. With friends like these, who needed enemies?
But she needn't have worried; the wind had gone out of Valenti's sails. Slowly, he lowered himself into his chair, looking everywhere, anywhere but at her. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a very long time.
"I...I'm sorry," Valenti said finally. "I guess I just...I guess I just wasn't expecting this. We'd only just settled the whole thing with Michael and the bones, and I thought...I thought…"
"That we were safe?" Dee finished. "That we were done? Because we're never safe, sheriff, and we're never done. Not really."
Valenti's eyes dropped. "Jim," he said awkwardly. "Please call me 'Jim'. And if I every try to rescind that again...slap me."
"With pleasure," Dee said.
His eyes flew up, startled, but she was smiling. "I guess the summer kind of lulled me into a false sense of safety," he went on. "And the bones thing was really a human problem, so…" He paused. "Any chance I could hear that reason you're willing to keep Max in the dark? Must be a pretty good reason if you went along with it."
"You can put away the butter knife," Dee said dryly. "You don't need to flatter me, you just need to stop whining."
Valenti smiled faintly. "A low maintenance woman. I've heard they existed, but I've never met one."
"Yes, well, my husband might disagree. The reason Max cannot know about his other Warder is that those Warders are required to obey his orders, and Max, being a teenager, cannot be trusted to not misuse that prerogative."
"Well, of course they're supposed to obey him, but geez, doesn't this qualify as a special circumstance?" Valenti said. "Can't they postpone all the 'Your Majesty' stuff until he actually climbs back on the throne?"
"You misunderstand," Dee said. "They
must obey the king's orders. They are genetically engineered to obey the king's orders. They are not capable of refusing to obey the king's orders."
Valenti blinked. "What?"
"Back in 1989 when the kids first...appeared," Dee said, "they briefly remembered their former lives. They briefly remembered their Warders. And Max gave those Warders a devastating order—he ordered them to tell them all why they were here, to describe the chain of events which led to their waking up in different bodies on another world. The Warders couldn't refuse. They had to answer, and so they told them how they had all been betrayed and murdered."
"Shit," Valenti whispered.
"Now, remember, these were young children," Dee went on, "about 6 years old in human terms. They couldn't handle it. They all had what can best be termed a nervous breakdown and promptly forgot what they'd just remembered. We assumed they'd remember eventually, and maybe they will...but they haven't yet. That's what happened when they were small; just imagine the havoc which could be wreaked now. The Warders have always been in hiding because they fear what the king will make them do, and when the time came to reunite them all, it was decided that one of them would always remain hidden so that one would always be free. Maybe that will change now, maybe it won't, but until it does, I'm keeping my mouth shut, and you should too."
"So what you're saying," Valenti said slowly, "is that the guardians
have to do whatever Max says? Even if they know they shouldn't? Even if it's something stupid?"
"Even if he orders them to kill you," Dee said softly. "Or me. They wouldn't be able to stop themselves."
Valenti was silent for a moment, staring at her. "Okay, that is
the most asinine thing I've ever heard in my life. What moron came up with that one?"
"It has to do with the way shapeshifters are feared and hated on their world," Dee answered. "It was felt that giving the king the ability to control them was a wise thing to do. Suffice it to say that whoever did that never envisioned them being in the situation they're in now, but here they are. Here
we are. And that is why I've gone along with it these many years; I saw firsthand what happened when a child is given that kind of power, and the results weren't pretty. Just think for a moment—what would you expect Kyle to do if he woke up tomorrow and you had to do everything he told you to?"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Valenti said in dismay. "Okay; mum's the word. But please...let me know when stuff like this happens? This town is my responsibility. If I'd known this was going down last night, I might have been able to help."
"It was an alien who died," Dee reminded him, "and an alien who killed him. Your constituents were never in danger."
" 'My' constituents?" Valenti echoed. "
Everyone in this town is my 'constituent'.
Everyone in this town is my responsibility, human or alien. I don't differentiate by species. Do you?"
Dee's expression softened. "No...but most people would. Except your father. He felt the same way."
"My father's not exactly talkative any more," Valenti allowed, "but from what little he's said, it appears that you had a lot to do with his feeling that way."
"God knows I tried," Dee said. "I remember sitting on the steps of this very station arguing law with him. I was trying to make the protections afforded illegal aliens apply to...well...you know."
"Seriously?" Valenti chuckled. "I'd love to hear that one…" He stopped, his eyes far away. "You know, it's weird, but...I think you knew my father better than I ever did. I certainly never sat on any steps discussing anything with him."
"I know," Dee said quietly. "And I'm sorry about that. I'm also sorry that you weren't informed about what happened. That would have been my responsibility, and I didn't follow through. It won't happen again."
"Sounds like you kind of had your hands full," Valenti allowed. "Hasn't even been 24 hours. I kinda jumped the gun a little. I just feel bad for Max. He was trying so hard to be calm and detached, but you could tell that part of him was panicking."
"At least you get to have these conversations with him," Dee said ruefully. "I would dearly love to be able to support them openly, but I have to settle for roundabout methods. The Warders aren't the only one in the shadows."
"But he can't order you around, can he?" Valenti said.
"He cannot," Dee confirmed, "a point I've made many times. But even though I would try my best to influence him, what do you think an adolescent boy would do if he learned he had that kind of power? What do you think he'd do if he had someone like Michael pressuring him? I'm not sure I could stave off the worst. He needs to be more mature; we just need to keep him alive long enough to get that way."
"And encourage him to get that way," Valenti added. "Like any parent would. That's the one thing I keep remembering about that message he told me about, the one from their mother—he's somebody's kid. Doesn't matter what species he is or what planet he's from, he's somebody's kid. That's something we can both identify with—you've got a kid, I've got a kid, and if I lost that kid…"
He stopped, a look of growing horror in his eyes as he whipped his wristwatch around. "Holy
shit! I forgot about Kyle!"
Dee blinked as Valenti grabbed his hat and bolted out of the office so fast, he practically knocked his chair back against the wall. Shrugging, Dee gathered up her things. She had just reached her car when her phone rang.
"Dee?" Courtney's breathless voice said. "You will never believe who just came to see me!"
"Today? I might," Dee said dryly. "The Easter Bunny? The Tooth Fairy?"
"Don't I wish," Courtney said. "It was Vanessa. She said she and Jaddo made a deal, and she wants my buy-in."
"And you're still alive," Dee noted, "which means that deal is looking more and more like it's the real…'deal'."
"This is hardly the time for groaners," Courtney said crossly. "She wants to meet me in private to go over the details. Which would be a great time to kill me."
"If she wanted to kill you, why didn't she just wait in your living room and do you in there?" Dee said. "But it doesn't matter. Jaddo told me the terms of the treaty. When does your shift end?"
**********************************************************
Evans residence
"There you are!" Diane exclaimed. "You snuck out before I got to you. It's cleaning day!"
Max blinked. "What?"
"Cleaning day?" Diane repeated. "That magical day before school starts when your room is emptied out, scrubbed fresh, and put back together minus at least a third of your stuff? Don't tell me you've forgotten; it's a tradition."
"Uh...I only ever remember doing that once," Max said. "And that was last year."
"Okay, so it's a new tradition," Diane said, linking arms with him and pulling him down the hall. "But it worked out so well last year that I've decided to make it a permanent one. I've waited all year for this."
"My room's not
that dirty," Max muttered.
"It's not just dirt, it's clutter. So," Diane went on briskly, "I've gotten you all set up with a fresh vacuum cleaner bag, dust cloths, trash bags, everything you need for a good, thorough cleaning."
"Don't most people do this in the spring?" Max said doubtfully as she handed him a garbage bag.
"Oh, no," Diane said, wagging a finger. "As soon as school starts, you and Izzy are gone even when you're not gone. And as soon as summer vacation starts, you're gone for different reasons. But this, the last weekend before school starts, when we're going through new school clothes and new school supplies, is the perfect time to clean house. Before there isn't any time to clean house."
"No offense, Mom, but I'd rather spend my last summer weekend doing just about anything other than cleaning," Max said.
"Exactly!" Diane beamed. "You'll clean all the faster so you can get back to your end-of-summer celebrations. See? This is
the perfect time to do this. Just look at these piles of clothes. And there's a dish over there which might walk to the dishwasher all by itself…" She paused, frowning at the carpet in front of the window. "That's odd. What
is that?"
In a split second, Max zoomed from peeved to terrified as Diane knelt on the carpet to the left of his window. They'd cleaned up the blood; he was sure of it...or was he? It had been so dark, and they'd been so upset, and in such a hurry. Panic-stricken as Diane bent closer to look, he aimed power at that section of the carpet, producing an audible gasp.
"Max! What did you do here? It's...it's…
white."
Which is better than red, Max thought as he bent over the offending strip of carpet to find a bald, colorless patch. "I don't know," Max said. "Maybe the sun faded it?"
"This isn't faded, it's...well, I don't know what it is, but this is precisely why this room needs a thorough cleaning at least once a year," Diane huffed. "And it looks like the carpet needs shampooing. You get started, and I'll call the hardware store about renting a shampooer."
"Knock, knock?"
Isabel stood in the doorway, a rubber glove on one hand, her hair swept up in a hasty bun. "Oh, Izzy, your brother's been playing with bleach, or...something," Diane sighed. "It's probably all the coming and going through the window. Someone must have had something on their shoes. Why can't you kids use the front door like every other normal human being on the planet?"
"Maybe we're not from this planet," Max said.
"Nice try," Diane said dryly as Isabel's eyes popped, "but you're not getting off that easy. I'll go get the upholstery cleaner. The sooner we treat that, the more likely it'll come out."
Isabel kept a brittle smile on her face as her mother left the room. "Was that supposed to be funny?" she demanded. " 'Not from this planet'? And what is she talking about? What's wrong with the carpet? We cleaned it. I know we did."
"She saw something," Max said. "I don't know what, and now I won't because when I tried to fix it...that's what happened."
Isabel bent over the pale patch of carpet. "You did a Michael. Just threw power at it in a panic. Lucky for us it just changed the color instead of blowing up."
No, I didn't, Max thought. He'd gone too far, but not because he'd thrown anything; he'd been aiming like he always did, thinking about what he wanted to accomplish like he always did. He'd been feeling like this ever since Pierce, that he was stronger than he had been, that he had to throttle back his powers. And yet when he passed a hand over the offending spot, it reverted to the color of the carpet with no problem.
"Isabel, do you feel like we're getting…"
"What?" Isabel said in alarm. "Getting what?"
Max shook his head.
Stronger, he'd been about to say, but Isabel wasn't ready to hear that. "Nothing. You're probably right. I just…'did a Michael'. So...I see you got drafted into the cleaning brigade too."
"If you tell anyone you saw me wearing rubber gloves, I'll throttle you," Isabel said darkly. "Mom grabbed me right after I got back from Tess's house. Where were you?"
"Talking to Valenti. I had to," Max added when Isabel's eyes widened. "He's on our side now, one of the few people who is. He needed to know. And I wanted to know if anything weird had happened lately, maybe something that could lead us to whoever killed Nasedo."
"Right," Isabel said quickly. "Right, I...I'm still struggling with the fact that he knows, that's all. So what'd he say?"
"Nothing weird to report," Max answered. "And he's sorry for our loss."
"Yeah, well, it's not like we were close," Isabel said. "It's really Tess's loss."
"How is she?" Max asked.
"She looks fine," Isabel said. "She sounds fine. But she's not fine. How could she be? But she won't show it because Nasedo taught her not to show emotion, to show weakness. And now we know why."
"We'll find out who did this," Max promised. "We'll figure it out."
Isabel gave him an anguished look. "I'm not sure I want to. He said we had enemies, and now they're here. And they're not human enemies this time, they're alien enemies. We know what Nasedo could do. What can these enemies do?"
"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Max said. "Whoever it was only went for Nasedo. No one's come after us. Maybe they don't know who we are."
"Do you really believe that?" Isabel whispered.
"I have to," Max said soberly. "It's the way I stay sane."
"So, what, we're going to just go back to school like nothing's happened?" Isabel said.
"Do you have a better idea?" Max asked. "I didn't think so," he went on when her eyes dropped. "Besides, we need some normalcy right now. I could stand to get out of this bedroom and stop looking at where he fell through the window and…" He stopped as they stood in awkward silence for a moment. "Let's just say I won't mind having other things to think about. Plus it'll be harder for anyone to get at us in school—it's too public."
"So we just go back to English and Social Studies, and do our alien murder investigation on the side," Isabel said in a deeply skeptical voice.
"That's right," Max said. "Valenti said he'd keep his eyes open, but an alien did this, which means it's up to us. We'll have to figure it out ourselves. There's no one else to do it for us."
**********************************************************
Glenwood, New Mexico
"That'll be $20.56," the convenience store clerk announced. "Read the sign, bud," he added sternly, pointing to a bedraggled piece of paper taped to the aging cash register which announced "No bills above $20". "We've only got about 300 people living here. We don't get fifties."
"My apologies," Brivari said, digging in his wallet. "Oh, and I need a pack of Marlboros. Black Menthols."
The clerk let out a low whistle. "High test?" he said appreciatively. "Like those myself. None of that 'light' or 'ultra light' crap. I mean, if you're gonna smoke, why not
smoke, know what I'm sayin'? Go for the good stuff. Go all the way!"
"Indeed," Brivari agreed.
The clerk turned to scour the wall of cigarettes behind him as Brivari turned his attention to the video surveillance monitor tucked high in the corner above the front counter. A moment later the video was rewinding, the hours flying backwards as the clerk frowned and muttered, searching diligently for what he would not find, completely missing the rapidly flickering video.
"Guess we're out of those," the clerk said.
"Could you please double check?" Brivari asked, having chosen that brand precisely because of its absence. "I'm quite partial to them."
"I'm a Gold man myself," the clerk allowed, "but I hear ya. I'll go take a peek in the back." He vanished into a small room behind the counter, reappearing a minute later with a regretful shake of the head. "Sorry, man, but...whoa. What was that?"
"What was what?" Brivari asked.
The clerk stared at the monitor, now obediently showing their conversation. "I...uh...never mind," the clerk said. "We're all out of of the Black Menthols. Not much of anywhere to get them around here either. If you're heading over the border to Arizona, you could try the gas station right on the other side."
"I'll do that," Brivari answered. "Thank you."
The tiny town of Glenwood was nearly deserted when he exited the store despite the fact that this was a Saturday afternoon. He was indeed headed over the Arizona border, but not for cigarettes. His quarry had appeared on the surveillance tape, disheveled and badly injured, although he'd managed to hide it. It appeared Jaddo had managed to give almost as well as he'd gotten, with "almost" being the operative word there. But no matter.
It wouldn't be long now before he finished the job.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post Chapter 23 on
Sunday, February 1.
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
. (I won't bother detailing what the rest of me feels like!) I was hoping I'd feel better by today, but no dice. Hopefully I'll be vertical by next week. (As opposed to horizontal, which is pretty much what I am now. 
) So let's shoot for next Sunday, and hope this is a less-than-a-week bug.
:
Yep, Kyle would be the one to note how they were "ass deep" in aliens. Or anything else, for that matter. 
