Touched by an Alien (6 page)

“It’s how they are,” Reader said. “Think of them like a huge extended Italian family and you’ll be on the right track.”

“You’re all related?” I looked around. “That would explain the hunkiness, but not your skin tone,” I said to Gower.

He shrugged. “My father married an African-American woman. Earth genes dominate over A-C ones, at least the ones that deal with physical appearance.”

“So you’re an alien-human hybrid?”

“Yep. Jeff’s a pure alien, though,” Gower added with a chuckle.

“My parents both came as operatives,” Martini said. “I’m Earth-born but full A-C blood. Same with Christopher and most of our younger agents.”

“So, you’re U.S. citizens?”

“Yep, with all the rights therein,” Martini confirmed. “We’re also considered political refugees, almost like the Indian Nations.”

“We have various areas assigned to us,” Gower added. “All over the world but centered here in the U.S. Superbeings can and do form anywhere and everywhere, but for whatever reason, they seem to land in the U.S. about twenty times more often than elsewhere.”

“Go U.S.A. What about you?” I asked White. “When did you arrive?”

“I came as a young man,” he said. “Those of us who weren’t born here are naturalized citizens. It’s important that we show loyalty to the country that accepted us.”

“So you’re a native from Alpha Centauri?”

“Yes, I was born on A-C, though I now consider myself an American. My wife came with me. She felt the same.”

I thought about it. Christopher’s surliness was suddenly even more understandable. “Your son favors his mother, I see. Must be hard, screwing up in front of your dad.”

Christopher turned around, and he looked furious. But I could really see it now—the same eyes, nose, and mouth as White. “Better than lying to my father,” he spat out.

“But not as useful
or
fun.” I looked up at Martini. “So, where do you fit into the family?”

He grinned. “I call him
Uncle
Mr. White. And that’s Cousin Paul,” he added with a nod toward Gower. “His father is my mother’s sister’s husband’s brother.”

“I can’t wait to see how you all handle Christmas. So, your father is Uncle Mr. White’s brother?”

“Nope, my mother is his sister. Keep the last names straight.” He looked over at Gower. “She’s starting to slip. Christopher might get interested after all.”

“Not likely,” he snapped.

I gave up trying to keep the family relationships straight. I figured I’d ask Dad to map them into his family tree software program once I knew if I was making it out of this alive or not. “So, how many Alpha Centaurites are there here on Earth?”

“Alpha Centaurions,” Christopher corrected in a snippy tone.

“We call ourselves A-Cs,” Gower said quickly. “Trust me, it’s easier. And, there are several thousand of us. Not all are working as agents, of course.”

“Not all are amazingly hot looking men? Wow, crushing news. Of course, I don’t have any really moronic girlfriends to fix Christopher there up with anyway.” He didn’t reply, but I could see his neck turning red. I wondered if I’d ever see my car again, then decided that was the least of my worries. “So, what do all the female A-Cs do for fun and profit?”

Reader was the one who answered, as we pulled up to an area enclosed by a high, nasty-looking chain-link fence topped with barbed wire that meant business. “They’re the scientists.”

THE GATE SWUNG OPEN
, but there was no indication of an electronic eye or any kind of mechanism. There were also no people around.

“How does it do that?” I asked Martini.

“Well, there’s these things called hinges, they move and let the part we call a gate open up, and—” I elbowed him in the ribs, hard, before he could finish.

“I have the beeper,” Reader told me. “It’s just a garage door opener, really.”

This was a letdown, but, oh, well. I looked out the windows. There wasn’t much around, but the fencing seemed to go on for miles. “Where are we?”

“The ranch where the Ancients’ ship crashed,” Gower answered.

“This is the real one,” Reader added. “There’s a fake the government runs that tourists and UFO theorists think is the real crash site.”

“Why? I mean, why show me a crash site? Wasn’t it picked clean years ago?” The wisdom of hiding a real UFO crash site wasn’t something I needed explained.

“As far as the fake site and the general public knows, yes.” Gower gave me a friendly smile. “Relax, we’re not taking you out here to kill you and bury your body off the beaten track.”

“It’s just stop two on the UFO Tour,” Martini added. “You’ll love it. Most women want to marry the first alien they’ve met after seeing the crash site.”

“I killed the first alien I met,” I reminded him.

“Nope, that was a superbeing,” Martini corrected cheerfully. “None of us from A-C are superbeings, other than in the sack.”

“I’m sure. Just in case, though, I have great cell phone reception, and I’m sure my dad can get a call through.”

“You worry too much,” Martini said. “Want a Coke?”

“You have that?”

“It’s a limo,” Reader reminded me. “We have more than Coke.”

“But since your fridge was only stocked with Coke products and frozen dinners, we thought we’d be nice,” Christopher said. He looked over his shoulder at Martini. “Nothing but junk food. Good luck ever seeing a home-cooked meal from that one.”

“I’ll manage. I’m all about the nice restaurant experience,” Martini said as he produced an iced glass bottle of Coca-Cola from the inside of the door next to him, popped the cap off, and handed it to me. “Straw?”

“Thanks.” I decided not to question why they had bottles and not cans, nor how they were keeping them frosty in the heat. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be an answer designed to inform or comfort.

We bumped along, me sipping my Coke and wondering just how thoroughly Christopher had searched my apartment and why. I looked behind us—all the SUVs seemed to be following. “We’re sort of a conspicuous parade, if you were wanting to stay under the radar,” I mentioned to White.

“Never complain about having too much backup,” he said.

“Cryptic. How refreshing.”

“We’re here,” Reader said as he stopped the car.

I looked around. “Not much different here than there.”

Christopher got out and opened the rear door on Martini’s side. “We go the rest of the way on foot, princess.”

“Nice that we have you as our official doorman,” I said. Martini and White got out, Gower indicated I should go before him. Martini and Christopher both offered me their hands to help me out. I avoided both. Martini gave me a hurt look. “Big girl, not impressing anyone, clothes already ruined. When I’m dressed up, feel free to help me out. Like this, why bother?”

Christopher snorted. “That should be a treat. You wear a tiara when you go out, princess?”

I gave him what I hoped was an icy stare. “I’m not really sure where you’ve gotten the ‘princess’ idea from, but stow it, manservant.”

White looked pained. “Christopher, manners would be appreciated.”

“Yeah, why ask her for any,” Christopher muttered as he turned away.

“What
is
his problem with me?” I asked Martini under my breath as we started trudging toward what looked like more of the nothing that was around us. Christopher had stalked on ahead, Gower and White were in front of us, Reader behind. The rest of the boys in the band seemed to be staying with their cars.

Martini actually seemed to give this some thought. “I don’t know,” he said finally. I was fairly sure he did know but didn’t want to tell me.

“I think he likes her,” Reader said, coming up on my other side. “And he doesn’t like that he does.”

“Great,” Martini muttered. “You know you’re mine, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Insofar as it matters, if it meant having to choose between you, Christopher, and marrying a tree, you’re number one.”

“I’ll take it. I plan to grow on you.”

“Like fungus?”

“I was thinking more like a vine,” Reader said.

“Not a clinging one,” Martini said. “More like a jungle vine you can enjoy swinging from.”

“Sounds better than having to lower my intelligence level to please Mr. Personality up there.”

I pondered this as we went along. It was odd. Martini I could understand. He’d seen me check him out. But I’d had almost no interaction with Christopher before he started being a jerk. If Reader was right, then Christopher had made his decisions about me based on, what? My car? My apartment? How would he get “princess” out of my fabulous housekeeping skills? Or my stuff?

I decided not to care. Martini was enough to deal with on top of everything else. I’d worry about Christopher if and when he became a real issue. Besides, Reader was gay, so maybe he just thought Christopher was interested in me because he wasn’t interested in him. After all, in my experience most guys expressed interest more along Martini’s lines, not by snarling and snarking at me.

There was another ringing noise. This time, since more than twenty aliens weren’t staring me down, I didn’t jump, just dug my phone out of my purse. “Mom, what’s up?”

“Kitty, are you all right? Your father said that really was you I saw.”

“Yeah, it was me, with Homeland Security now, blah, blah, blah. I’m sure Dad told you. I thought you were on a plane.”

“I was. We sat on the runway for what seemed like hours but was probably only thirty minutes. Then they took us off the plane. Apparently I’m stuck in New York for the foreseeable future. Due to the terrorist attack you stopped they’ve shut down all air travel, in case it wasn’t a lone incident.”

“Oh, are you kidding me? Hang on.” I covered the mouthpiece. “Hey, Christopher! My mother is stranded in New York because of the recent terrorist activity. Any chance in the world you can stop opening doors and, call me crazy, get this taken care of so people can return to their lives?”

He spun around. “Look, you have no idea of what you’re dealing with,” he snarled. “It’s not that easy, and—”

His father cut him off. “Enough.” He said it quietly, but White’s voice carried authority when he wanted it to. He walked back over to me. “Please tell your mother to gather her belongings, go to a taxi stand, and one of our people will pick her up.”

“Oh,
hell
no. You are
not
kidnapping my mother.”

White heaved a sigh. “If you want her home, we have to pick her up.”

“Lots to do in New York. Why’s she in a rush?” Martini asked.

“She likes sleeping in her own bed with her own husband. Why should I have my mother go with any of you?”

“Safest place for her,” Reader said quietly. “Superbeings come in different varieties. We know we have some that are in control. If one of them makes the connection between your mother and you . . .” He let it hang, but I got the point.

I went back to the phone. “Mom? Homeland Security’s going to pick you up.”

“Why? Oh, God, things aren’t safe, are they?”

“Well, let’s just say it’ll be safer for you to be with them.” I hoped. “Get your stuff, go to the nearest taxi stand, wait for a gray SUV or limo. Don’t get in unless the men are really drop-dead gorgeous.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Come again?”

“Work with me on this one. Just make sure they’re good-looking.”

“There’s a whole lot you didn’t tell your father, isn’t there?”

I remembered why I’d never bothered to learn to lie to my parents. My mother never, ever fell for it. “Yes, Mom, there is.”

“Are you safe and will I be safe? And is your father safe?” I heard the worry, there more when she was asking about Dad than for me or her.

“Dad’s fine,” I said, giving White a meaningful look. He nodded his head, and so did Gower. “They’re watching the house.” More nods. “But they’re not watching you, yet, so they want you under protection.” Nods again. “They’ll meet you at the taxi stand. Just remember, gray, not black, great looking, not average or ugly.”

“Not really for us to say, but thanks,” Martini said quietly, with his usual grin.

“Which taxi stand?” Mom asked. I heard her telling someone to let her have her checked bags.

“It won’t matter, they’ll find you.”

She groaned. “They won’t release my bags.”

“They’re holding her bags,” I told White.

His reaction wasn’t what I was expecting. He spun to Christopher. “Get her and her things, now!”

Christopher nodded, and then he was gone. Literally. One second there, the next, empty air.

My stomach clenched. “Uh, Mom? Stay around people, stay away from anyone acting weird, and someone’ll be there, really, really fast.”

“Okay. Hmmm.”

“What?”

“You know, I think I just spotted weird. Kitten, I’m going to go. Hopefully your new friends will find me quickly.” With that, the phone went dead.