Uninvited: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Novel (The Dark Skies Trilogy Book Two) (5 page)

F
lying low
, the helicopter slices through the dark canyons, eventually veering north away from the twinkling lights of town.

Cool as a cucumber, O’Malley silently mans the controls with Fitz in the passenger seat. I’m in the back, crouched next to my uncle, who lies unconscious on the floor, his breathing ragged and shallow. Ruby, looking dazed and dizzy, flanks him on the other side.

I feel numb with grief and loss thinking about Chad. Over and over in my mind, I replay the vision of the Horlocks dragging him away.

I stare at BrightSky leaning against the side wall of the helicopter. Is this stupid sword really worth all of this trouble? Am I worth it?

We touch down on a small helipad that rises above the black crashing Pacific. A cluster of vehicles dots the nearby beach parking lot, including my uncle’s old familiar beat up white pickup truck. I can’t believe my eyes.

“How did you—“ I begin.

“I had Tanaka’s team retrieve it earlier,” Fitz answers before I get the question out.

Two fresh team members, who’ve been waiting for us, transfer my uncle from the helicopter to a gurney.

Heads bent low, we climb down to the ground, and Fitz asks me, “So you’ve moved eight, nine times?”

“Ten,” I say, then add. “But I thought you knew that?”

“I did.” He ignores my sharp tone and hands me a piece of paper. “That means you’re good at starting over.”

“What’s this?” I ask, looking at the paper.

“Directions to a safe house in Sacramento.”

“Sacramento?” I repeat.

“If you don’t stop, you should be there by dawn if you three leave now.”

“Me too?” Ruby asks, sounding confused. “But my parents—“

“You can’t go home,” Fitz shuts her down. “You’re not safe here. Not right now, at least. If you go home, we’re putting your parents and your sister at risk. Because the Horlocks have seen you, you must both go. I’ll talk to Ruby’s parents. Hopefully, she can return home soon. We know what to say in situations like this.”

“How could you possibly explain?” I wonder aloud.

“Leave it to me.” He hands me a second piece of paper with what looks like a pair of random numbers scribbled on it. “No matter what. Don’t lose these numbers.”

“Where are we going?” Ruby asks.

“This will lead you to a hidden medical facility that caters to the non-human. It’s the only place where your uncle can get the appropriate care.”

“What about Chad?” I ask, desperate for him to have a solution to this problem.

A dark shadow crosses Fitz’s face. “Don’t worry. We’ll talk to his family.”

“How will you get him back?” I press Fitz.

He hesitates which makes me nervous. Finally, he says, “The team will discuss it back at headquarters. We’ll come up with a plan.”

O’Malley and his men transfer my uncle into the backseat of the pickup.

Fitz hands me my uncle’s key ring. “Okay, Astrid, you have to drive.”

“Me?!” I shrink back like the keys are a two-headed poisonous viper. “I can’t drive. I’ve literally had one lesson in the parking lot of the K-Mart by the airport.”

Ruby - still woozy from a bump on the head — says, “Hey, no problemo! I’m good to drive.”

Obviously, that’s not going to work.

“No, that’s okay, Ruby. I’ll do it,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “You can get a little sleep.”

“Sleep sounds nice,” she says, her eyes already fluttering shut.

Fitz helps us get my uncle into the backseat. He stirs for a moment, his eyes blinking open. As soon as my uncle’s safely inside, he loses consciousness again. Ruby climbs in the backseat with him and looks like she’s about to fall asleep.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I say, as panic bubbles up inside of me. “Why can’t you come with us?”

“There are things I need to attend to here,” he replies vaguely. “But, others will look out for you until I can get there.” He levels a serious look at me. “You can do this.”

“I don’t know…” I must look very unsure.

“Your uncle needs special attention,” Fitz tells me. “And there are only a few facilities on the planet that can attend to him and wounds like this. It might be his only hope for survival. An injury caused by Draconian steel is very serious.”

I nod.

“Good girl.” Fitz then proceeds to give me the world’s fastest driving lesson. Behind the wheel, I maneuver around the parking lot.

He pulls a small disposable cell phone from his pocket and hands it to me. “This is untraceable. Call me in case of an emergency. Otherwise, follow the directions I gave you on the first piece of paper. Once you hit Interstate 5, it’s a straight shot north. Just get in the right lane and hold it steady at 60 mph. Stop at the motel listed called Elven Hollow Motorlodge. It’s a sort of safe house. You’ll get further instructions there.”

I nod as it sinks in that I’m really going to have to do this. It’s always been my uncle who bundled the two of us into the truck and got us safely to a new location, a new home, a new life. But now, the roles have reversed, and I’m the one whisking him away.

“Go! Others are waiting,” Fitz says, getting out of the passenger seat. “Do not - I repeat - do not speak to anyone until you get to the safe house.”

“I won’t.”

He closes the door, and I pull out of the parking lot, glancing in the rearview mirror, to get a last look at Fitz watching me with an uncertain expression etched across his face.

As I steer the big truck out on the mostly deserted back country roads heading toward the interstate, I see that Ruby is now fully asleep in the back seat.

After a few miles, I feel more comfortable behind the wheel. All in all, this driving thing isn’t so hard. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty much going in a straight line on a wide empty road.

After about ten minutes I realize my hands ache. It’s probably a safe bet that this dull pain has something to do with the fact that I have a death grip on the steering wheel.

Loosening my hands a little, I turn the radio on. My uncle had a sweet sound system installed in this truck a few years back, so at least that’s good. To keep myself awake, I sing along to the songs playing. The oldies station is what’s coming in the clearest so half the time I just mumble stupidly because I don’t know the words.

I consider trying to find some music from this century, but because my uncle likes oldies, I’m hoping that maybe even in his current unconscious state, the songs might seep in.

After 150 miles or so, my stomach starts to growl. It occurs to me that I’ve hardly eaten today. I know Fitz told me not to stop, but when I see an all-night mini-mart on the side of the freeway, I pull in.

It’s three in the morning, and not another soul is around. I park right outside the front door and under a bright light.

I quietly slide out of the truck, lock the doors, leaving my uncle and Ruby snoozing in the back.

Inside, I buy a vanilla latte, a little pack of cookies and some almonds. I’m in and out in less than five minutes.

But as I approach the truck, I see movement in the front seat and what looks like a flash of glowing eyes.

I freeze in my tracks. Ruby and my uncle are still asleep in the back.

Someone, or something else, is now in the truck.

I
stand perfectly still
, watching the inside of the truck, waiting to see more movement in the front. My heart pounds so hard in my chest, it might actually explode.

I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I listen to Fitz? He told me not to stop. And worse yet, I left BrightSky in the truck. I have to get used to bringing her with me all the time. What good is a magical, mythic sword if you keep forgetting to take it with you?

Utterly defenseless, I inch closer. Unfortunately, a little fog covers the windows from Ruby and my uncle’s breath making it harder to see inside.

I quickly survey the rest of the parking lot and the inside of the store. The lone clerk — only other person in the mini-mart with me — has gone back to watching a reality TV show about killer alligators.

There’s not another living creature in sight.

Once I’m close enough, I see movement in the dark space on the floor in front of the passenger seat, but I can’t get a good look inside. Whoever, or whatever, it is must be crouched.

Steeling myself, I grab the door handle with one hand and swing the door open ready to face whatever threat lies within.

Instead, I find myself staring at two big familiar green eyes gazing lazily up at me from the floor of the front seat.

“Tom?”

How in the world did he find us a hundred and fifty miles away from home?

“Is that your cat?” Ruby murmurs, waking up momentarily.

“Yep.”

It’s the big gray stray cat the lives in our yard. Except, as it turns out, Tom isn’t exactly a cat. He’s a shapeshifting creature known as a Lesser Valarian Drolgon. And my guardian. Somehow, he’s found me.

My uncle, awake from the noise, briefly smiles at the sight of the familiar green eyes and murmurs, “Good drolgon.”

Tom gracefully slinks into the backseat and curls up on my uncle’s lap.

The four of us pull back onto the interstate. There’s no question I feel safer and more secure now that Tom has joined us.

After another hour, I see the faint glow of what must be San Francisco off to the west. My latte and cookies long gone, I just keep driving and singing along to unfamiliar oldies.

As dawn breaks over the eastern hills, I pass a sign that reads “Sacramento City Limits.”

“Are we there yet?” Ruby stirs quietly in the backseat.

“Pretty close, I think,” I say, handing her the piece of paper Fitz gave me with directions to some random motel called the Elven Hollow.

“Weird name,” Ruby says.

She helps me navigate past a sea of fast food joints, gas stations and bail bonds shops into an old rundown part of the city.

When we do finally locate this mysterious motel/safe house, I’m pretty sure I’d rather just sleep in the car.

“Yikes. Looks like the elves have left the hollow,” Ruby comments, frowning at the sight of the motor lodge.

She’s not wrong.

“But a nice place to shoot a horror movie,” I add as we gaze at the sad two story motel, complete with empty swimming pool, rusty patio furniture and droopy shutters.

I manage to maneuver the bulky truck into a parking spot near a pair of old soda machines that stand guard outside the front office.

“You stay here with my uncle and Tom,” I say to Ruby. “Let me go check it out. If something happens, you guys need to get out of here as fast as possible.”

Ruby nods gravely as I slink nervously out of the truck and cautiously head to the shabby door with the neon sign that blinks “office” on and off.

Naturally, there’s no one at the front desk in the tiny, dimly lit reception area. I ring the little bell a couple of times and wait.

Nothing.

I suddenly understand what it means to have the “heebie-jeebies.”

I ding the little bell again and before it’s done reverberating, a gruff male voice from the dark back office barks out, “Hold your horseflies! I’m on my way.”

The door seemingly creaks open on its own, which causes me a moment’s confusion until I look down to see the top of a gray balding head. A very small man trudges forward. He's a dead ringer for an escapee from Munchkin-land.

“This better be good,“ he snarls, struggling to put on his wire-rimmed glasses. With his pointed salt and pepper beard and his broad face, he looks like a walking, talking elf. “We don’t open until 5 am. Is it already 5 am?”

“No sir,” I answer. “It’s almost 4:30.”

“4:30! How rude. Go away,” he turns to leave. “And don’t come back. We don’t have a room for the likes of you.”

“But sir—“

“Do you want me to call the cops!” He flips off the light, returning to the back room.

Standing in the dark, I don’t know what to do. Fitz told me not to talk to anyone until we got to the safe house. This doesn’t feel like any sort of safe house.

Finally, I just blurt out, “Fitz gave me this.”

After a silent beat, the light comes back on, and he reappears. “Give me that.”

I hand him the piece of paper Fitz gave me. Below the directions, there are a few scribbled words in a language I can’t identify.

His eyes widen with shock as he reads whatever’s written. He now addresses me in a formal voice. “Your highness, do forgive me.”

“Did Mr. Fitzgerald tell you I was coming?”

“Old Fitz? Nah. Too dangerous,” he shakes his head. “The world has many ears. Nothing’s safe anymore,” he adds while performing a formal little bow.

Wow. Having someone actually bow, like you’re the queen of England or something, is super weird. “Please don’t bow… to me. “

“As you wish, m’lady.” He straightens up. “You are in need of a room to refresh yourself?”

“Yes.”

He pivots, climbs up on a stool in front of an old fashion pegboard where over-sized brass keys hang down. But he doesn’t select one of the keys. Instead, he pulls down a small navy blue satin pouch with a gold drawstring. “Got just the place for you, Highness. A wee bit more secure than the other room.”

“Secure sounds good.”

“By the way, Orin’s the name.”

“Nice to meet you, Orin.” I follow him out of the office and down the sidewalk in front of the rooms.

“Um, there are three of us.” I nod, unsure of how much information I should provide. Do I tell him my uncle is injured? Or that the Horlocks are after us. Should I mention Tom? Pets probably aren’t allowed. What about regular old humans like Ruby?

I decide just to keep it all to myself.

But he says, “Any companion of yours is a friend and welcome guest to me.” Then he bows again.

We amble past a row of what were probably once brightly painted red motel room doors, but are now faded and peeling. Turning a corner, we come to a bank of rundown out-of-date machines filled with sugary soda, cigarettes and stale tuna sandwiches.

Orin cautiously looks both ways to make sure no one is watching, then pulls a silver dollar out of his blue satin pouch. He inserts the coin into the center vending machine filled with candy and snacks.

I’m waiting for him to select the plastic container with the deviled egg or the salami-on-rye, but instead, he takes a step back as the machine repeatedly clicks, then steam rolls out from beneath it. Some sort of hissing hydraulic platform rises up moving the machines up and away from the dirty stucco wall.

When it stops, the entrance to a large and modern secret room hidden behind it has been revealed.