Alien Collective (9 page)

T
HE POOFS WERE ADORABLE BALLS
of alien animal cuteness, with no visible ears, black button eyes, tiny paws, and the fluffiest fur ever. We’d gotten our Starter Set of Poofs during the fun Invasion Lite that was the pre-show entertainment for my wedding to Jeff.

The Peregrines had come home to roost, pun totally intended, later, after Jamie was born, right before Invasion Full Flavor, or what I called Operation Destruction. They looked like peacocks and peahens on steroids, the males multi-colored, the females all white.

The Poofs were androgynous and rumor had it that they only mated when an Alpha Four royal wedding was imminent. They were also only supposed to belong to the Alpha Four Royal Family, of which Jeff, Christopher, and Gower were all a part.

However, by now, we’d had a Poof Explosion of such epic proportions that pretty much anyone of any significance within American Centaurion and Centaurion Division had a Poof to call their own. Heck, Oliver had his own Poof, and I was pretty sure our Middle Eastern Contingent had some, too. Olga and Adriana had gained Poofs right after Operation Infiltration.

By contrast, while we had twelve mated pairs of Peregrines, they had yet to start their own flock. They were “assigned” to Embassy staff and those who worked closely with said Embassy.

Operation Infiltration was the reason the Peregrines hadn’t gotten their flock expansion going. They felt they’d failed us. Because we’d lost three A-Cs and a Poof during that time. And not just any A-Cs—Gladys, Michael and Naomi had been hugely important to everyone in Centaurion Division and they’d been just as important to the Alpha Four animals. When they’d first arrived, one set of Peregrines had been assigned to Naomi and Abigail, and one set to Chuckie, too. So we had four Peregrines mourning as much as Chuckie, the remaining Gowers, and Caroline, who’d been engaged to Michael.

I was working with them on getting over the guilt, but it was slow going. Though I was doing better with the animals than the humans, this was a classic example of damning with faint praise. When your entire species has been bred for thousands of years to protect, and you aren’t able to, you feel like a failure, whether you’re a human, alien, or avian. Especially if you loved those you were protecting.

The Poofs had also been upset to lose the three people we did, but they’d been more upset to lose Fuzzball. Poofs weren’t used to early deaths. Because, as I’d found out, they weren’t really from Alpha Four. They were from the Black Hole Universe. And, according to the only authority on Black Hole People I could ask, even though Black Hole beings were immortal, they could be killed.

So in addition to my parents’ cats and dogs, we had alien avians and bundles of fluffy adorableness. And I could talk to all of them. Figured it was only a matter of time until I could talk to random animals I didn’t know. Maybe that would be helpful. Maybe.

I’d spent a lot of time practicing talking to all the animals in my mind, but it took more effort than speaking aloud and, besides, no one was around to hear me. Well, no person.

But I’d made the call and was instantly surrounded by Poofs and Peregrines. The Peregrines had hyperspeed and the Poofs had . . . whatever the Poofs had that was like hyperspeed only probably better.

The entire furred and feathered clan weren’t here—there were always Poofs and Peregrines guarding Jamie and the other Embassy and Alpha Team kids, most of whom were hybrids, all of whom could be used as the most effective hostages ever. And many Poofs were with whoever they felt they belonged to, especially if that person was doing something dangerous.

That no Poofs or Peregrines had been in evidence during the protest, our “arrest,” and here at the Bahraini embassy before now didn’t indicate slacking on their part. The Peregrines could chameleon it up and essentially go invisible, and the Poofs had whatever their special powers were that allowed them to not be seen unless they wanted to be seen. So these days, I went with the working assumption that I had the Head Peregrine, Bruno, and a variety of Poofs, most likely the Head Poof, Harlie, and my Poof, Poofikins, with me at all times.

Only, this time, Bruno, Harlie, and Poofikins were not in attendance.

However, I still had a blanket of concentrated cuteness interspersed with feathered beauty in front of me. It was enough to make a girl pause. Which I did, mostly so I wouldn’t step on any paws or claws.

“Hi all, Kitty would like a word.” Had the Sea of Animal Love’s full attention. Hard to concentrate with this much adorableness in front of me, but I’d slipped out for a reason, so Onward for the Cause. “We’ve had a lot of bad things happening today. First off, are all my Poofs, Peregrines, cats, and dogs safe and accounted for?”

Received quiet purrs and squawks confirming that all animal personnel were alive, well, and where they should be, wherever that was.

“Super. Now, in regard to those bad things, can any of you tell Kitty what’s going on and, more importantly, how to stop it?”

The Sea of Animal Love stared politely at me. This was not the outcome I was hoping for.

“Ah, Prince, can you give it a go?”

Prince obliged and wuffed. The Poofs mewed back, the Peregrines squawked and bobbed their heads. I tried to follow the conversation. Failed. The thing about my talent was that while the animals could always understand me, I could only understand them when they wanted me to.

Prince growled. The other animals growled back. I didn’t think they were actually growling at each other, though.

Prince barked, and the Poofs and Peregrines disappeared, while Prince spun around and took off at a trot. Decided questioning what the hell my supposed guardians were up to was going to be a waste of time, and took off after the police dog.

He didn’t go far. Prince was at the door we’d just come out of, barking his head off. He wanted in, and he wanted in now.

Tried to open the door. The operative word was “tried.” The door was locked tight. Since I’d made certain it had been unlocked only a few minutes ago, this indicated someone had gone out of their way to lock the door, and lock me and Prince out.

Prince was barking louder and more hysterically. There were other K-9 dogs inside, as well as lots of people, and no one, on two legs or four, was coming to the door. This boded in a typical and familiar way. Prince and I had been locked out for a reason, and that reason point-blank couldn’t be good.

There was really only one Likely Suspect. Maybe Prince hadn’t been growling to help me with my excuse for why we were going outside. Maybe Prince had been growling because he hadn’t liked the way the Helpful Servant had smelled.

Contemplated my options. If the door had locked by accident, or automatically, my ripping it off its hinges would be a poor way to repay Mona’s hospitality.

On the other hand, if everyone inside was in danger, there was a strong likelihood that Mr. Helpful Servant had some deadly gas he was dying to share with everyone. And that included my mother, my husband, and my daughter.

American Centaurion was a wealthy principality-territory-reservation-whatever. And we could fix whatever I messed up using hyperspeed. And no one was coming toward us, calling to us to shut the dog up, or anything else.

Dilemma over, I grabbed the door handle, channeled my Inner She-Hulk, and pulled with all my strength.

B
ULLETPROOF GLASS
is usually encased in steel. So are most buildings, especially those built to withstand attack. Needless to say, the Bahraini embassy had plenty of steel.

While my enhancement made me stronger than the average human, I normally wasn’t up to a normal A-C’s strength level, let alone Jeff’s. If I was completely enraged, all bets were off. But rage wasn’t always easily available, and right now, I had panic going much more strongly. Which was a pity—I needed rage or Jeff’s muscles right now, because the door wasn’t budging.

Tried harder. Was rewarded with the handle coming off in my hand. The less said about my falling onto my butt the better, but now I had a metal bar and no entry into the embassy. Was willing to define this as “not good.”

Of course, bulletproof and shatterproof are not the same things. Decided that, as always, necessity was the mother of invention and panic was the father of ability. Started slamming the handle against the door. It did nothing other than bounce off in an impressive and, for the person holding the metal, painful manner.

Prince barked. Well, he’d been barking already and nonstop, but he changed how. He wasn’t barking the All Dog Alert anymore. He was barking instructions.

Fortunately, I was a confident enough person to listen to what a dog was telling me to do. Hey, he was a trained police professional after all. “Oh, really? Well, that’s a big ‘duh’ for me then.” Dropped the door handle and dug around in my purse for my Glock, while congratulating myself on my prescience, based on years of experience, in keeping my purse firmly attached to my person at all times.

I never left home without my Glock. Frankly, I rarely left our apartment in the Embassy without my purse and all its contents, which always included my Glock and several clips. So I was ready, willing, and able to do what Prince was telling me, which was to fire repeatedly at one area of the glass until it broke.

Stepped back, flicked off the safety and, per Prince’s instructions, started firing at the high middle of the door, basically head-height for Christopher.

Sure enough, as Prince had shared, bulletproof really meant bullet-resistant. And I happily discovered, as my sixth shot caused the glass to break apart, shatterproof just meant the glass went into “safe” pieces, versus deadly shards. It was always nice when something, anything, worked in my favor.

Stopped shooting—figured I’d need the ammo shortly for a much more fleshy target. Used the door handle to break the rest of the glass away so Prince and I could get in. Proof that something was terribly wrong was easy to find—no one had so much as stuck a white flag around a corner, let alone come to see who was trying to shoot their way into the embassy. We were officially at DEFCON Bad.

“Remember that they’re using poisoned gas,” I reminded Prince as we both stepped through carefully so as not to get glass on our shoes or paws. “And they’re certainly big into bombs and shooting people, too.”

He snorted. He was a trained professional, thank you very much, and I could just stay behind him and let him lead. Typical. Every male I knew tried to shove me behind them any time danger loomed. Under the circumstances, decided not to argue and let Prince do his thing.

Which he did. He slunk along, hugging the wall, sniffing like mad, but no longer barking, or even growling. I knew he was angry and intent—but he wanted to also be silent so as to have a hope of surprising our enemy in whatever meager way we might manage after all the barking, shooting, breaking and entering.

We checked the rooms along the hallway as we slunk by them. No one was in evidence. Prince prepped himself, then rounded the corner with a low bound, me right behind him.

And then Prince and I both skidded to a stop, because there was no one in the room.

Ran out and started searching the embassy at hyperspeed. No one, not one living soul, was in evidence anywhere. Fought down the total panic and was back with Prince in the main room where everyone had been before in a matter of about a minute. To find it still devoid of anyone other than Prince, and him in an attack stance, fur up all over, growling at absolutely nothing.

I’d have told him to stop being dramatic, but we were missing a tonnage of people, all of whom were important to me in some way, particularly my daughter, husband, and mother, and there was no sign of a fight. So drama was probably the way to go.

The A-Cs could have grabbed everyone and run off somewhere, only there was no way in the world my husband wouldn’t have noticed that I wasn’t around to be grabbed. And neither he nor Officer Melville would have left me and Prince locked outside. Frankly, no one who’d been here less than fifteen minutes ago would have left us to whatever fate without at least trying to get to us. So the good guys running for safety was out as an option.

Meaning, what? Every living person in this embassy had disappeared without a trace. Only Prince wasn’t acting like we were alone. He was acting like he had someone, or something, cornered.

“A little help?” I asked softly.

Prince wuffed, barked, and snarled, sharing that the someone was the guy he’d growled at earlier.

Okay, I could tell the dog he was talking crazy, or I could accept that he could smell someone I couldn’t see. Considering that I could talk to the dog, invisibility didn’t seem all that farfetched. The Peregrines had that ability, after all, though it was more like chameleon camouflage. And the A-C system had cloaking technology—we were using it here on Earth to protect the Crash Site Dome and other key facilities.

Decided to trust my gut and my dog—hey, until we found Melville, Prince was mine—and take a page from the NFL. Pointed my Glock at what I was guessing was chest height for the person I was by now praying Prince really had cornered. “The best defense is a good offense. You have a simple choice—you can decloak yourself or I can start shooting. I’m a really good shot, I can hit someone going at hyperspeed, and I have a lot of clips on me. I suggest you choose wisely.”

Nothing.

However, I examined the area Prince was threatening. It was a corner with bookcases on either wall. However, if I looked just right, there was a faint outline, as if the books and wall were . . . thicker than normal. Like in the movies, when Harry Potter has on the invisibility cloak, or Sherlock Holmes was using his special hide-in-plain-sight clothes.

“Okay, you asked for it.” I aimed for where I thought the thigh might be and fired.