Touched by an Alien (52 page)

His eyes narrowed. Direct hit. “Everything I need is functioning perfectly.”

“Really? Jeff, baby, please put up a block.” I focused all the hatred I had, all the anger, right at Yates.

He grinned. “Thank you.”

Aha, he could feel them, the negative emotions. And he liked them, which wasn’t a surprise considering how twisted this man was. But what did the positive ones do to him? “You can take the block down.”

“Make up your mind,” Martini muttered.

I focused again on how much I loved him. And not just him—everyone in the complex who I knew and at least liked. I concentrated on the feelings of love, friendship, loyalty.

Yates glared at me. “It doesn’t affect me. Nice try.”

“It should have,” Martini said slowly. “I could feel it through my blocks, both kinds,” he added to me. “You’re losing your empathic abilities.”

“Hardly,” Yates said dismissively. “Your inamorata just has no idea of how to send an effective emotional attack.” His eyes narrowed, and I could tell he was attacking Martini.

I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Hang on, Jeff.”

Martini started to laugh. “Not a problem, baby.” He moved me to his side, keeping his arm around my shoulders. “He’s got nothing left. Beverly was hell on Earth, but Granddad here’s shooting blanks.”

“You have no right to claim me as your blood,” Yates hissed.

Martini snorted. “Like we want to? Come on, Gramps, we hate your guts.”

“Why is Mephistopheles allowing you this little grandstand?”

“He is not in control!”

“Um, yeah, actually, I think he
is
. He’s not the one dying.” I actually knew why the grandstand was taking place. It seemed both cruel and showing my hand to say why, however. Especially since my purse was up in my room.

I knew Mephistopheles was going to manifest soon. I also didn’t want this room destroyed—it meant too much to Martini. And I liked it here, too. After all, we’d made love on the couch and had the most normal hour of our admittedly short lives together here. It was ours, ours and Terry’s, and I didn’t want it to be ruined.

“Tell you what, Ronny. We’re just gonna walk out, and you can follow us. I mean, that’s what you want, isn’t it? Run of the place? Lording your might over everyone else?”

Yates glared again. I really thought I could see Christopher’s Glare #4 in this one. Eerie how genetics worked. “You think I’ll allow that?

I shrugged. “You might not like it, but I think Master Fugly wants a tour. Don’t you, Mephistopheles?”

Yates’ eyes glowed red. “You intrigue me. Lead on, little one.” The words had more resonance, as if they were coming out of a much larger body.

“Yeah, I have that affect on scary monster-men.”

WE STROLLED OUT OF THE ROOM
, and Yates followed. “Thanks a lot,” Martini said under his breath.

“Didn’t mean you were a monster. Other than in bed.”

“Uh-huh. What are we going to do?”

“Trust me.”

“I’m beginning to hate it when you say that.”

“You okay with the elevator?” I asked Yates. “I mean, are you okay with waiting to manifest until we’re all out of it? These suckers are really expensive to fix.”

Yates’ eyes were still glowing. “Yes,” he said slowly. “You have accepted the transfer?”

“Um, sure, possibly, maybe. Let’s discuss it somewhere else.”

Martini’s arm tightened around me. “No.”

“Not your choice, Jeff.” I tried to send an emotional clue but I wasn’t sure if he got it. From an emotional standpoint, I was vamping like a two-dollar hooker in Old Downtown Caliente, but I wasn’t sure if Martini was getting or understanding it. I just hoped somebody else was. And I hoped I was sending the right signals, because if they didn’t do what I needed, we were all probably dead.

“It would be preferable to do it now,” Yates said in Mephistopheles’ voice.

“Oh, come on, big guy. You’re telling me that you want to miss the big reveal? You know, where you manifest in front of all the chosen people and declare yourself their god? And then you choose your next human vessel and go all soul-transference and mysterious? You really want to pass that one up? With a freaking captive audience in attendance?”

“The one you cling to must be destroyed, you know.”

I snorted. “Hardly. You’re saying I don’t get to pick who I bang when I’m your vessel? Yates got his pick of the kiddies. I want this one. And his cousin, too. And a few of the others, as well.”

I really prayed Martini was picking up where I was going with this, because if he wasn’t, it was going to get scary ugly fast.

“Perhaps. If they do not try to interfere.”

“Oh, they won’t. Right, Jeff? No interference, you let me go mano-a-mano with Master Fugly?”

Martini looked at me. “Sure. If that’s what you want.” He looked freaked out but not panicked. Hopefully this was a good sign.

“I do. Now, be a good boy and get the elevator down here.”

Martini pushed the button, and we all waited, as if we were in an office building and going up for a meeting. Elevator doors opened, no one inside. Good.

The three of us got in and Martini looked at me. “What level?”

“Top.” I hoped. It had the most open space I’d seen.

He pushed the button, and we went up. Just like every other elevator ride, no one looked at each other. Nice to know the big fugly had that bit of humanity still in him. Yates wasn’t really human, but if they could breed with us, the spark was there. At least, this was what I told myself. Because I was counting on it.

We reached the top and exited. No one around. This was a really good sign.

“Where are the masses?” Yates asked in Mephistopheles’ voice.

“I’m sure they’re coming. It was sort of an off day today.” I moved us into the biggest open area. “We’ll wait here for them.”

“There is not much more time,” Yates said. “I grow tired of waiting.”

“Well, while we pass the time until the others get here, why me?”

He looked at Martini. “Leave us and bring the others. My words are for my next vessel only.”

Martini clutched me to him. “Jeff, it’ll be okay.”

He kissed me, not too long, but with a lot of meaning put into it. “Be careful, baby. Please.” He let go of me and moved away. Yates let him go, and I relaxed a tiny bit.

Now it was just the two of us. Alone at last. Me and the ickiest man in the world. I was actually looking forward to the fugly of my nightmares making a return appearance.

“So, Yatesey, you have about, what, an hour to live?”

“Possibly less.” The eyes were still red, so it was Mephistopheles.

“Okay, we’re alone. Why me?”

“You are . . . different. You don’t fear me. I anger you, but you turn that into courage. You, more than any of the others, are the protector, the right one to take up the mantle.”

“And yet somehow you picked Yates last time? Not exactly a protector.”

“He was, once. I searched for one like him for so very long, a charismatic leader without fear. I almost had him many decades ago, but he was sent away.”

“From Alpha Centauri? You went there first?”

He nodded. “It was a more appropriate world for us, much more than this one.” He smiled. It was official—Yates and Mephistopheles both were scarier smiling than when they tried to look threatening. “Soon, we will own this world fully, and I will remake it as it should be. We will have enough power then to claim a better home world, to expand our influence as is our right.”

“Fab plan. So, Yates was actually heroic at one time?” No time that anyone who knew him could come up with, of course, but maybe Mephistopheles had a different perspective. Some people liked Hitler, after all.

“He was willing to do what was necessary to lead his people. That they and others did not appreciate his sacrifices does not diminish them.”

“He was a megalomaniac with a serious racial purity issue. And while money and power is a big deal on our world, we still respect courage and decency more.”

Mephistopheles shrugged. “He corrupted, as you will corrupt, as all leaders and protectors corrupt.”

“I can think of a few who didn’t.”

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely. He chose this path without my help. You will come to see why as well. The more you lead, the more you will learn the truth.” He shifted impatiently. “Where are the masses?”

Distraction time again. “So, Lucifer? Can I call you Lucifer? Lucifer, why do you manifest so damned ugly? I mean, biblically, you should be the hottie of hotties, yet Yates is not the snazziest A-C on the planet, and your manifestation is, let’s be honest, butt-freaking ugly.”

He didn’t answer. No problem. As long as one of us was talking, we were all still alive. Of course, to kill him, I had to get Mephistopheles to appear. This superbeing extermination gig really wasn’t anything close to glamorous or fun. Pity I seemed so good at it.

“See, to me, you should look like Jeff or Christopher. They’re totally hot. All the A-Cs are. And we have human hotties, too, like James, for instance. Any one of them could get any woman or gay man hooked into you instantly. And as for the straight men and lesbians? Jeez, man, pick a chick here and go for it, right? So, again, why?”

Silence, but I thought I saw a little steam coming out of his ears.

“Oh, by the way, did you know that Yates tried to blow me up this morning? I really doubt you wanted him to do that.”

This did it. Yates shimmered, bubbled, and boiled. It was truly gross, like all the werewolf transformations the movie special effects guys love to do, only far more disgusting. In the movies, you don’t get the full smell-a-rama that I was privy to. Yates had carried the odor of walking death, but the transformation smelled like every kind of dung boiled up together and then stir-fried. I managed not to gag, but only because I was revved up more than before a race or sex with Martini.

Mephistopheles burst through Yates’ so-called skin and grew. It was like a Harryhausen film on steroids. He ended up at his twelve-foot range. Nice of him not to try to break through the roof, all things considered.

“Minion, you will accept me!” he thundered. Interestingly enough, Martini was able to bellow a whole lot louder. I allowed myself a moment of possessive pride. I hoped he was keeping his cool wherever he was. I knew what I was doing . . . I hoped.

“Nah, don’t think so.”

He looked at me in shock. “But . . . you have been prepared. Trial by fire. Death of loved ones. Murder. You are ready.”

“Dude, did it really work like that on your original world?” I shook my head. “Trial by fire? C’mon, Mephs. You have nothing on my track coaches. Those people
knew
from torture. Stair drills when it’s a hundred and twenty-five in the shade. Hill charges during a monsoon. Twenty-mile runs in the desert when you’re a freaking sprinter. You think a couple of fuglies are a match for that?”

Now that the Head Fugly was fully here, I sauntered around. I didn’t want to be in one place too long, just in case. And I was looking for something. Something I hoped someone had placed strategically for me. I didn’t see it yet, but it was, after all, a big room. Mephistopheles trailed after me. I resisted making another Clifford the Big Red Monster comment.

“Murder? Maybe. I don’t count killing your fugly buddies as murder. No one on Earth would. Alien monsters don’t count as having souls to us. They might, but we don’t care. Show us a fugly monster, and we want to kill it. Hell, half of us don’t like spiders or snakes, and at least they’re from around here. No one’s going to say I murdered anything, including me.”

“Beverly was killed by your hand.”

“Yeah, and you should take a note. She threatened my man. I get really testy about that. Do you know how hard it is to find a man who’s fab in bed, wants to settle down and have kids, and is drop-dead gorgeous, who also happens to be straight? Harder than killing a fugly, let me tell you.” I really hoped Martini was nowhere within view of Mephistopheles.

“Things you loved died.”

“You killed my
fish
. I don’t know how to break it to you, but I name all the fish the same thing. The Siamese fighter is Carradine, and the guppies are Mickey and Minnie. I’ve had at least twenty Mickeys, about thirty Minnies, and more Carradines than I can count. I don’t love fish, they’re just living décor that requires my attention.”

“They were not the only things killed.”

“Oh, good point.” I was there. Someone had gotten my message. God love them, whoever they were. “Yeah, I’m still pretty pissed about Cox. He represented everything you’re trying to destroy—goodness, decency, bravery, duty—and I’ll never forgive you for killing him. Or Terry.”

“You didn’t know her.”

I looked at him. “Actually, I know her really well.”

He lowered his face to look more directly in my eyes. “How could that be?”